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Don't misunderstand
We'll agree to disagree
Viewpoints right or wrong
Dreams, so many dreams
Some forgotten, some waiting to happen

am I one of those dreams?
forgotten after the morning alarm
or waiting to come knocking?

forgotten, or waiting to happen
am I a forgotten dream,
or are you waiting for me too?

dreams, so many dreams
overflowing with them

will I reach them,
or will I have to forget them?

each day, an ache that never ends
but when —
when will it be enough?

time.
time is cruel for a dreamer.

and what am I
if not a dreamer?

a dream
or a dreamer

I guess I’ll know someday,
but not today.

time, time is cruel for a dreamer
sometimes too slow
sometimes too fast
a never-ending agony

dreams,
so many dreams

some forgotten...
just like me

and yet —
I keep dreaming.
my first poem ever.
the first two lines wouldn’t let me sleep,
and somewhere between silence and thought,
the rest found me.
a cat, they say
both dead and alive, in a sway
trapped in the box
become a metaphysical paradox

a flask of death, a trigger tick
a game of chance, so cold, so sick
they call me life, they call me death
but no one asks to hear my breath

a man, I say
become the halfway
let his atoms hum and twitch
become the theorist’s broken glitch

see how you like the in-between
will you then be so keen
maybe then you’ll see the cost,
see the life lost

seal the box, install the locks
put a man in that box
I’ve started sharing my poetry,
and I think I’ve concerned a few—
friends, family—
they didn’t see the blue, blue, blue
sadness
that sits quietly in my lingering,
spilling out in these poems.

It was never my goal,
but the sadness likes to speak,
wants to say what is true:
that the sadness still exists,
a deep, deep
blue, blue, blue.
I burn
and I burn
and burn.
Everyone loves it
when I burn for them.
They enjoy the warmth I give.
I burn and I burn,
yet no one burns for me.

Why keep burning then?
The answer is simple:
I don’t know how else to love.
I burn and I burn
until I can’t
anymore.
Some people love gently. I only know how to set myself on fire.
Maybe that is why I walk alone most of the time
I listen and don't want to hear gossip or anything that sounds like noise
Good mornings or nods
Pat or pet a dog
Drink your beverage usually water
Not only am I in tune but learn more than idyll chit chat
Listening Carefully sometimes to music but usually the time of day
heart speaks of what it is full of
if you want to know the truth of it
A quiet
young woman
in a library
reading books
with diagrams
of bomb shelters
and *** positions

She's thinking
of her future
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