I've got some bad habits.
I always feel bad,
My family hates me,
And I've never been rad.
Most my friends have been to rehab.
But I like my bad habits.
I'm made of bad habits.
Waking up once a day,
Wasting all my talent,
Sleeping all day,
Thinking all night.
They're all bad habits.
I've always been made of bad habits.
Never had a reason to feel glad,
Too empathetic or apathetic.
Had to quit school cause I went mad,
I tend to love being sad,
and I've never had a dad.
I have some bad habits,
But I love my bad habits.
I love too much,
I'm too alone to have a crush,
And I'm always out of luck,
But I still try anyways.
And they're my bad habits.
I am my bad habits.

wake up at six 6am.
grab my phone.
check my feed.

you are always
there.
first post.
always wearing
your beautiful
smile.

maybe the algorithm
realized how
i stare at our photos,
some nights
before sleeping.

maybe he
makes the sum
of our unsaid words
and multiplies it
by those nights
i fell asleep in
your chest.

maybe he
never heard
our fights.
the shouting,
the crying.
or maybe he did
but just choose
to keep them
out of the equation.

maybe he
knows
you are still
the first person
i think of
when i wake.

i scratch my eyes
and keep scrolling.

Meditation or medication.
There seems to me to be one track to freedom
        and we're all on it,
But what multitude of obstacles
        we choose to face
Is up to "us."

This clay figure that radiates energy
  
Was scultpted over eons of time by the gentle presses of nature's thumbs

Life is meaning expressing itself,
How we choose to guide it
Is up to us -
Our emotions are but an interpretive language
That pulses with each breath, mingling memory with intellect,
Feelings are filters, like our eyes and skin,
Meant to figure dreams of chemistry
        into being.

Who we are within
Is as formless as a hazy dream,
Only suggested, imagined to be.