i wear this weariness like a hand-me-down jacket
(too broad for these shoulders
frayed at the heart stitched on my sleeve
a mess of patchwork band-aids and safety pins) -
not well

still, it's cold and
these loose threads are more comfortable than anything new
through rain and even more rain
i march on, no longer hoping for shine
the water from every glass half spilled beats down on my shoulders,
soaks through all my layers,
drowns me from the inside-out
but we have faced worse than water-logged lungs
and a driftwood heart

darker clouds gather a hundred lives past the horizon

some storms come to pass,
some storms seem to last forever
sometimes the thunder clap is your own heart,
beating, pumping, urging you forward

through the storm
i weather the weight of a thousand whispered disappointments
(dreams
hopes
realities),
shrouded in my family's shadows
disguised as a hand-me-down jacket

i feel a strangeness in the air this winter
what do you call progress while standing still?
or growing inside the box?
is this what normal is meant to feel like?
cloudy skies
eyes
mind
i've lived a thousand eons in snow
and i fear the eve of my spring is farther still

so i am not a peach
or a peach pit
there's no cyanide laced sweetness in these veins

so this was a choice
or lack thereof?
nothing grows without effort
and i have a belly full of seeds to prove it

swallow your tongue
swallow your guilt
rinse it down with moonlight
and then swallow your hope

blame the lack of blooms on bad genes

so this is the truth
or it almost is
i am the wilted sapling of my own neglect

Follow my softness all the way to the cliff's edge
Let me show you there is no fear in falling
Please show me there is no fear in falling
We stand at the precipice of everything,
galaxies and dandelion wisps as far as the eye can see
Take my hand, love
Take my hand
Let us jump into the void with certainty;
With the knowledge that there is no end
Let us not wish for one
Let these feet never touch solid ground again

In the air, the soft buzzing of my desire
My bed, yours
My peace, yours
My heart, yours
There is little I can do but surrender to you

He says, "Today's generation is going to ruin the world"
He says, "Today's music is trash"
He says, "Today's media is brainwashing the children"

And I can't help but wonder
how utterly exhausting it must be to hate that much
With all that darkness clouding your vision,
did you notice how bright the sky was today?

When was the last time you played in the rain?
When was the last time you walked through the woods?
When was the last time you told someone you loved them?
When was the last time you felt happiness? 

He tells me I know nothing about growing up
about hard work
about life

And that may be true
I don't know much,
but I know there is a fine line
between growing up
and giving up

My room is clean
but there's still dust
The books are put away
but not in order
The sheets are on my bed
but it's not made
The laundry is done
but not put away

My mom would call this Spring cleaning
I'd say it's just me getting better
and she'd tell me they're one in the same
She knows a thing or two about dusty shelves
and cobweb corners