Open window breezes tickle my rib cage
Laying on my bed shirtless, I’m exposed to the world I’ve built in my bedroom
Comforters and bedsheets intertwined at the edge of my mattress
97 degrees of heat are pin-balling their way through the air
While a blanket of snow lay dusted on the lawn
Thinking, if I leave my window open long enough,
I can melt away all of the glistening perfection
Leaving enough mistakes in this world
To think I belong here

Little orange dimples wallpaper my skin
Trying to palm my aggression by dribbling in agony
I’m free
Legs criss crossing
Arms are tossing in the air like I’m praising a buzzer
Building hopes and dreams on driveways and wooden glossed tiles
Behind me is a river of determination that I myself poured
This is where I am an artist

Clear glass bottles are gathering by my bedside
My throat’s a drain, washing away the stains on my gullet
I’m poisoned
.08% is easily surpassable as long as the problems keep on coming
I’m running
I’m stumbling
Everything’s blurring
I’m home

My grandfather used to tell me stories of scary monsters
Monsters tall, Monsters wide
Monsters who’d like nothing more than to bring you down
He’d tell me how these monster are everywhere
How we cannot escape them, only learn to live with them
My grandfather long gone, those stories still ruminate
I found that the monsters he told us about
Were ourselves

She worked in a cold environment
Her hands smelling of cinnamon
Her smile as smooth as cream
Her love was timeless like the broken clock on the wall above her
A spring together led to a summer apart
Followed by the fall
Winter became my cold environment
Ice cream never tasted so sweet

I can see stars in the sky
Constellations are putting me in a trance
Lost to my thoughts, all I can do is float through space
Visiting each bright fiery cloud, all an individual Earth
Slowly pulling myself home
The sky turns brown
The color of her eyes

A sailor loses his wife in a shipwreck in early Spring, 1953
Never remarrying, the sailor sits in his beach house with his son
Staring out to sea, day in and day out, watching the waves break against the coastline
Fall, 1984, the sailor has a stroke
The sailor does not speak for thirty-one more years as he lays silent in his cot
The summer of 2012, his son climbs the stairs to his fathers room
As his son leans in to kiss his father on the cheek
His father whispers to him
‘There is a diamond in that ocean.’