Boy meets girl
Blank walls
Empty space

Boy says
“I feel comfortable around you”
Girls heart flies
Space is filled with trust and friendship

Girl likes boy
Girl is quite
She is afraid of saying anything
That could off set what is
So carefully balanced
Space is enough

Boy drinks a bit
Smokes a bit more
Dozes off in oblivion where
Nothing can hurt him
Space is safe from intruders
And those who are unwelcome

Girl pretends nothing is wrong
Nothing is being felt
For fear of cheapening
All the beautiful things
That fill the space

Boy gets on a train
Girl watches it pull away
And screams all the things
She wishes she had said after it
But it is too late for possibilities
But the space is safe

from blistering to blizzarding
for hot to cold
from left to right
from yes to know

such dramatic differences between the two
like dramatic and static
like wilderness and zoo

these changes are apparent
like apparent and non
like fire and ice
but the burns are long gone

one without the other
would be quite a shame
for i would depressed if
I were a horse without a mane

I feel ugh
I want butterflies in my stomach
Total heart shattering sadness would be perfected over my current state of numbness
I am lukewarm green tea
An empty room at a perfect 72.4°F
I'm sitting on a bench waiting for a train that isn't on the schedule
This numbness is almost comfortable
But this is nothing nearly as wonderful as Pink Floyd
This is a shoe box of nothing but tissue paper
This is a wick without wax

I didn't realize how alone I really was
I have always known kisses to be unheard but
The fact that you feel anything is what is emptying me
Im sorry I feel so guilty for your unmatched like
And in all honesty I wish I had a time machine so I could undo it all
I didn't realize I **** up everything, and it all turns to gold
I hear beep and buzzes, feel vibrates and screams
But none of it really matters, because in the end I’m alone
I keep pretending to be on the same page, in reality I don't want to open the book
I’m not a fan of love stories because of the chance of broken hearts
So I guess its best that I feel nothing and you keep talking
The problem is that I decided to stop listening
And to stop closing my eyes when we are kissing
Because what is the point in pretending I can feel anything
When numbness is so much more interesting
These beeps would be numbing if I could bring myself to hear them
Guilty of the pain I have caused for these are trying times for the faint of hear.

Being that I am a bisexual agnostic teenager in america I am so free
I must be the freest ******* think in the whole wide world
The birds I would look up to in my youth are now jealous of my wings
I can soar higher, fly stronger, move faster, fall deeper
I am so ******* free
I sleep with who I want
I believe what I want
I eat, drink, smoke, sleep, ****, do, what I want
I have a right to bear arms and to oppose those who do
I am granted to voice to say what I feel about the freedom I have unjustly acquired
And in all honest I feel ******
Why do math homework when I can write poetry
because *******. Pledge allegiance to myself *******.
I am so free, that not only do I know why the caged bird sings
But if I so choose I can perch myself next to it and sing along
What is freedom anyway.  the quality of being independent of fate
I guess I lied, for I cannot be free of what I can not control.

It feels like I've made the worst mistake of my life so far. I feel in love with a second semester senior who is heartbroken. With his smile so pretty and his words so meaningful and sincere, I can almost looked past the rupture she caused when she left. I keep telling myself it's on high school, it's only high school, but it doesn't make it hurt any less. He said things to me that were kind and unexpected. Then I built it up in my head. Told myself in the end it would all work out. It wouldn't be like every other sophomore that liked a boy who would be leaving in a matter of months. I told myself it wasn't stupid and meaningless. I told myself if I wanted it badly enough in the end where his car pulled away I would be smiling and thankful for those three months. That's my problem. Older boys who I can't possibly have a real relationship with. My other problem is I might just really like him and everything that he is and maybe I don't really understand how pathetic this is but I know I don't care. Philly isn't that far.

I was crying into someone's shoulder and they asked
What's wrong with your life?
My response is simple
Too much ****.
It's too much **** and not enough enlightenment
It's to much *** and not enough love
It's too much alcohol and not enough of a buzz to make the pain go away longer than a handful of hours
It's too much pain but not a good enough reason for it
It's too many bad choices but not enough lessons to make them worth anything
It's too much lust and not enough emotion
It's too many sappy romantic comedies and not enough anger
It's too much reality with nothing feeling real
It's too many minutes spent listening to the clock tick
It's too many candles wasted on playing with the wax

I really like words
They are beautiful and meaningful
They express my emotions as concrete and relatable
But I don't know what i feel
I don’t feel happy sad angry jealous
I don’t feel nothing
It is definitely something
But the question remains
Is what that something
It is like a rock is crushing my chest but not quite
It is like an idea that is just on the tip of your tongue
The problem with tongue tips is you don’t get your point across
Unless your point is to seem deeper and more mysterious
Than the person you're speaking to
But this feeling isn't something I want to impress others with
It isn't a party trick to take out at boring dinner parties
It is also like loneliness but not really
It’s like losing a race by three seconds to someone who came out of no where but different
It is like feeling for a light switch in a very dark room of pointy object
But without feeling like that at all.
It's like a balloon on the verge of being popped sharing all of it's nothingness with the world
But less depressing 
It's like the sound of stairs that are being walked on but no so definable 

It is

To love and be loved
To never be bored

It's 2:36am on what was a
Thursday,
I'll watch Conan's opening monologue,
Then cry myself to sleep,
With tears of lonely ashes