You look so handsome in the sweater you’re trying on,
and,
for a moment,
I look at you and smile my great big smile.
(However you become uncomfortable),
and ask me,
“what?”
because you do not understand it. (like he did)

I tell you,
that I am sad,
and what I really mean is
“I’m absolutely falling apart”
and you,
simply ask,
“What’s up?”
as though it is that simple..

Day 7,
of starting university,
I tell you it is hard
and you,
not knowing the depth of my problems,
make a joke about how hard your day off was.

You do not know an inch of me.
You do not know what my heart sings,
or what it longs for.
And if,
I let you in,
You would but look through the window,
and you would ask,
to see no more.

Today my eyes are sore,
swollen with the promise of tears if anyone gets too close.

And I keep thinking about you,
as the winter sky presses down on me
and I know I’m not okay.

The remittent sadness is back,
proclaiming itself to be the king of my land,
my body,
my mind.
It plants ugly flowers in my rib cage,
watering them with it’s early morning rain.
And I know,
that tomorrow when I wake,
for a split second I will forget this loneliness,
but then I won’t.
And the dread will kick in
kicking my sleep drenched euphoric thoughts into reality.
And then my brain will say,
‘Oh, I woke up alive again’.

But most of all,
my heart will say,
‘don’t’.

My eyes are sore today,
you know this,
I know this
and I am thinking of you a million miles away
and a bird knocks on my window
and then everything is silent
and that’s when the loneliness gets too close

*and I cry.

Before guns wore make-up,
We used to put pennies in our socks
So we’d always walk on the root of all evil.

Now Wall Street angels frolic through satellite clouds borrowed
from youths educated by universities of smoke and plastic bags.
                  
(The tears of a child are homage to the waning gods)
For in a day not far away,
Over the painted moon of the Morning Son,
The sun will rise wearing the finest war scars money can buy.

And the screams of humanity will be heard from Venus,
Forgetting that the reciprocal of   L-I-V-E   itself  is     E-V-I-L
And perhaps death is the life meant to be lived.

A 1988 Oldsmobile Cutlass Ciera
A mixtape
Valentines Day

A tuxedo
A seafoam green dress
Prom night

A starlit road
A taste of your lips
Spring

A weeping embrace
A slamming door
Summer

An empty bedroom
A bottle of gin
Autumn

A silent girl
A disturbed boy
Winter

"I don't love you like I did yesterday"

we still rise to the same sun
we still sleep under the same moon
we still read the same words
we still hum the same tunes
we still feel the same joy
we still feel the same blues
we still play the same songs
we still know this to be true:

we still forget to let go
but we still manage to say i love you.

It's birthday season
and the leaves are falling.

So it's kind of ironic.

Birth and death
in perfect harmony with one another.

Blossom all you'd like,
your leaves will turn
yellows and reds,

maybe sooner than you'd think.

All of the free spirits
are flying so high.
Happier than a child
on Christmas morning.

However,

the truth of the matter is
it'll all end

maybe sooner than you'd think

Clocks rupture
Their willowy hands thaw
Groping for each solemn hour
Stillness encapsulates
Seconds wither
Time is a stagnant corpse
Lying composedly
Amid a necropolis of lives he’s taken
Guilt sinks its teeth in like wet cement
Time once whispered his tears
Through a colorless chime
None heard
None cared
None mourned
All just watched
Watched with cavernous fright
As time clung to their shadows
Scribbling death upon their veins
And staining their youth with fear
“What a harrowing purpose I serve”
Time croaked
And with quivering lips
Time slipped away
Tick
Tic
Ti
T
_

I am twice the size of my mind
a half zipper from being undressed
They say kids with higher IQs do more drugs
because we’re looking for something
there’ve been studies but
I haven’t found anything yet
I’m just shivering dizzy confused lying on your bed
not going to puke.
In your arms you’ve got me safe for some reason.
It takes all my effort to lift my head “What?”
“You’re lovely” you whisper
that’s not what you said the first time I think.
“even now?”
“Sleep, baby”
I always had a thing for boys tellin' me what to do.

Today I laughed at someone else's pain
Tomorrow I seek selfish gain
It broke my heart to no end
How I wished suffering on an old friend
No one's fault here for what you have become
Though thought should be with you for what could be undone
Try not to remain in the mistakes you've made
How much do I blame myself for the part I had played.