long hair cut short.
apology after apology.
jackets often worn,
if not, sweaters or
long-sleeved tops.
anti-social,
not because
i hate people,
but i fear they hate me.
isolation in my bed,
sometimes,
panic attacks
in the bathroom.
constant overthinking,
whether 3 am or 3 pm.
scribbles thoughts
into poems,
but hides them.
pushes away,
even though i want
to pull them closer.

Why do we crave so many things
though they leave us unsatisfied
and send us out again for ephemeral
seconds of vanishing gratification?

Is it an absence of essential qualities
that makes us feel unfinished?
Do we indeed believe that more is better,
restlessly chasing for the shiniest of all?

We seem to be obsessed with filling
all the empty spaces in our house of life
with things
barely a place left for ourselves
to comfortably lounge and contemplate
and
    maybe
find the missing elements
waiting
    to be found
    within
and not without

have you ever been wondering
how death tastes
right now?

my garden has a butterfly
each time I see it flutter by
I wonder why it is so shy
and does not want me to come nigh

I guess its ancestors detected
that many of them were collected
to end their lives pinned on a board
then eyed by beings they abhorred

as I prefer my animals alive
I love to see my butterfly
amidst all daily haste and strife
just beautifully flutter by

I want to be alone,
And someone to be alone with,

Crowding eachother
In an Empty heart,

Dark stars entwined
In a melodious nothing,

Taking in the sorrow,
Lovers with melancholic grace.

you know the look
the look
when you feel eyes on the side of your face
but you're not completely sure
so you turn
instantly catching them
looking
their addictive
ice blue eyes
staring
and then quickly they're gone
looking somewhere else
like the floor or  
out the window or
pretending to be deep in thought
but
you know that they've been looking
because you've caught them twice before