Suddenly,
all the love songs
on the radio
were about him
and then
just as suddenly,
the radio
stopped playing
all those songs
replaced them
with heartbroken ballads
and yet,
they were still about him
he always had to be the center of attention

Here's another
whiny poem
where I lyrically
complain
about
how he doesn't pay
any attention to me
even though I know full well
that he isn't
obligated to

Sometimes the worst
kind of stress
is the one you can't see
but feel
when you wake up
after thinking you were
safe
to breathe

My strong convictions
which I had
written out on my arm
are fading
and I'm begging them
to stop
to stay
but
I can't see ten enough
anymore

I lose you
like I lose my mind-

effortlessly.

living is a conspiracy meant to make us comfortable
with the fact that we are nothing but
walking coffins.
coffins that harbor our dead, slumbering souls
souls that await their final burial.

that is the true purpose of our birth,
of our precious life
to transport us to a new destination.
souls are merely cargo.

but I don't dare complain, for fear of eviction
of what I've come to call
a miserable home
a humbling abode
my sanction of sanity.

not claiming to be a poet,
just someone whose only friends
are bundles of words,
chewed upon pens,
and worn-down notebooks.

Unappreciated
are the simple beauties
we overlook every day.
from a glance in the mirror
to a look out your bedroom window

stripped from the extra
made into the ordinary

why ignore something that should make you smile every day?