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camps Mar 28
I.

we regret to inform you that your coat has been stolen and
your scarf is warming up the neck you wish your hands would

we also regret to inform you that your lover is leaving you
and you will never see them again


II.

he said i lied to you she said i like you too and now
like everyone else he sees her face in everyone else
yeah he knows this song but she’ll leave him anyways
since that boy was foolish and the girl couldn’t help
that hers was a face of neon ignorant enough to look at him


III.

there are so many things that i want to do to you but i guess
i’ll just eat your stale cookies and imagine pulling your hair
the glitter in your eyes tells me everything i need to know &
i’m sorry but the lipstick on your face looks better on mine
it tastes like december cold and glühwein in union square
now tell me

why is it so easy to picture you as the mother of my child?


IV.

sick with the fleeting beauty
bless this breeze ephemeral
until it knocks us down weak
so we can learn to say grace

silver sinned bavaria
dream in blonde and leopard print
heavy hearts foam at the mouth
dead until we bleed again


V.

i have chosen the moment i held you in my arms
as the moment i’d like to live in forever
lilian
Mar 17 · 88
untitled
camps Mar 17
you can't shake the feeling it
quickens marching to the tune of
stop stop beat beat

there's smoke in his eyes and he's
dressed so sharply must be a madman
there's smoke in his eyes

but not enough to call them hazel
camps Feb 17
the flies drowned in the beads of sweat
rising to the occasion on my tired skin
the market felt particularly alive that day and
i tried my best to stand strong knowing
i reeked of foreigner

at the stall i traded two #2 pencils and a
pack of marlboro reds for a basket full of mangos
i asked for any item they were about to discard
and i got a notebook so old its paper
was painted yellow

the villagers told of a man who ruled at
the edge of reality in lands past life where
time was only marked by the lashes of a stinging sun
they said he knew how many grains of sand were
contained in the desert of the great beyond and
that he could throw dunes around like they were pebbles

no one is stupid enough to look for him they said
i'm stupid so i went

i trekked and trekked until trekking was no more
even the snakes and scarabs stopped at some point
the sand in my eyes sang songs to me and
every once in a while it turned my sight
into a searing kaleidoscope

i saw him in the distance he got farther away
with each step i took towards him
the winds spoke of a thousand suns laid to
rest each night of crumbling towers and of a
loneliness that stung sharp

i felt that way my skin now cracked
and my bones returning to the earth
i couldn’t even die knowing my minerals
would one day bloom for this place marked death
a solemn lonely death

a lifetime traversing so desolate a landscape
i could feel the longing in his breath and the
menacing laughter making me twice a fool
you insisted on looking for something he said
as if there was ever anything there
in my domain reflection is survival

i looked around but
there was no water to be found
Feb 11 · 73
sticky prophecy
camps Feb 11
my skin is split apart at the seams at least that is
what it seems like it happened just a couple of days after
i said i had stocked up on bandaids got the plastic kind
the one that falls off easily but what is truly surprising
is that i had unwittingly prepared myself for it

if we could cover up all of our problems as easy as we
do a wound would we get bandages to hide all of the times
we lay in bed sad and in silence would i get some gauze and
fill the hole in my chest left behind by the heart you took to germany sometimes healing looks like bandaids sponsored by past presidents

i wouldn't bet on a dream i'd put money on a sticky prophecy just to hope it doesn't come true
Jan 29 · 131
new york in the 90s
camps Jan 29
you watch movies set in new york in the nineties
and city life seems so different then than it is now they
capture the quintessential city culture he wonders out
loud the people in the café continue with their meals no one
was listening the previous statement is false and not
particularly fair to the man next to him who did indeed
hear him i may be old but i'm still a man the gentleman
says and he heard but the words echoed in his mind as
he now pondered whether stocking up on band-aids
manifests the need to use them

the hairless patch on his face is quite large but he's
perfectly accustomed to it as it is his hairless patch on his
face so much so that every once in a while he looks in the
mirror and is reminded that in theory and in agreement with
the way beards work hair should be growing where there is
none and suddenly he becomes aware that his beard is not as beards go and his self-induced cognitive dissonance only goes away when he remembers that he's spent literally hours of his life brushing
his teeth and quite aggressively at that

i too am a man
man, what?
camps Jan 28
i wouldn’t know how to deal with the things i’m dealing with if
it weren’t for the fact that i’m already dealing with them oh god
why does he write like that it’s just complicating the obvious
and too repetitive for its own sake and it doesn’t even make sense

if i didn’t state the obvious you would never hear the words
i love you and your need for validation would surge while simultaneously being reduced to swiping right on pretty lips
but the kind of pretty lips that wouldn’t know what to say
even if they did know what to say

i drew a circle but my arm quivered and the line
shot way past the paper it’s currently undulating
over my desk and zooming past a caterpillar
contemplating whether the process of becoming
beautiful would make him beautiful when he
already knows he is beautiful

the jar of mushrooms stares back in silence
streams of consciousness pieced together
camps Jan 9
maybe if we weren't left to wonder by ourselves
we could figure out exactly why we need
what we need lobotomies and chickpeas i'd
play this instrument down to my bones

but when i look i realize with great
panic that i'm still falling up so far away from
everything i've never known to a future that
coalesces like colliding constellations

i forgot to bring the wontons now the whole party
is staring at my empty hands oh hey how curious it is
that i can still feel the pressure of your hand around
mine fitting me like the glove i never knew i needed

but now i've been left alone to figure that one out
i forgot to bring the wontons
Jan 8 · 67
untitled
camps Jan 8
the tips of my fingers have grown mouths yes
indeed now all they do is complain about not being able
to see you see i'd give them eyes but i swapped them all
for the tiles i could use on the triple letter

there's a rabbi rappelling down the face of the mountain
that looks like him but still lets him down i think
he'll ***** you i swear just hanging on the cliff by
the noose of suspense you have to give him a minute

feeling's overrated cue the parting lovers i gave
my fingers eyes but took away their mouths i showed
them you they seem like they wish they'd never seen
at all a fair trade to have their lips again

and say what they want to say
i think this accidentally became about someone and i'm not quite sure how i feel about that
Jan 8 · 55
untitled
camps Jan 8
closed my eyes and saw my checkered
past just kidding it was striped and full of stars
ribbons poured out of me they were made of the
silkiest flesh

their expiration date said tomorrow
what would you do to me if you only had
one more night please let me be your dragon
you're already my dungeon

the piece of lead inside of me is knocking
on the walls of my skin it hasn't seen the light of day
in over a decade does it remember if the sky
is blue

who told you that truth anyways
Jan 8 · 93
slicing spinach
camps Jan 8
slicing spinach and slice your
finger accordingly
but without touching it

a ***** old mop would do the trick
but i choose to sleep by your side just
for the sake of leaving the
curtain open and watching the gentrified
projects watch me
back

all while foreign missionaries
practice mathematical equations that are a tad bit
just too complicated

expedited executions of the
equestrian kind
the race hasn't even started and you're
miles ahead
kicking up a cloud of dust except it's just
the teasing sneezing of steaming pleasing

i bet you forgot the last time you tossed a coin in a fountain
Jul 2019 · 389
therapy for the broken soul
camps Jul 2019
will you hold me
or will i sink down the cracks of the sofa
and befriend all the loose change and whatever
other documentaries got lost on their way to the fridge

on my way down i saw a moth ball copulating with a paper clip
a crisp twenty dollar bill but instead of the president
the scars of a rather gruesome history al gore was just sitting there
head in his hands

i tried to chew the bubblegum but it broke my skull
a couple of pink pistachios waved from afar as the rogue
kernels played bully in a scene they’ve never seen since

as careful as i was it wasn’t it until i reached the fabric
that i realized the cotton was awake it greeted me
not as a sign of friendliness but out of respect for here i was
still thinking i could fit in your hands
Jul 2019 · 142
untitled
camps Jul 2019
denali licking me from the inside out
it’s a tickle that starts from the tummy and ends in your
toes, if i had ‘em but they fought the good fight

back when imagination consisted of staring up at the sky
and pretending you were already in the place you were
and when mirrors reflected what you thought you saw

instead it’s time spent thinking about your name on my skin
the electric wild is running down your spine will you try to catch it
pornographic sentiments are cheap change for feeling something

city lights and lonely nights only look good on film
a haphazard mechanical zeus for the metallic taste
that’s still lingering from when i tried to breathe
Jul 2019 · 991
untitled
camps Jul 2019
today i scraped my knee when i fell from my
seahorse look under the scab there’s two
men sitting around a fire they’re discussing the finer
things in life like the more probable causes of the
dinosaurs’ extinction and whether all-white
meat chicken truly does belong in
the stomachs of millions of americans

for them dessert only comes around when a child answers
the question of what they’d like to be when they grow up
i wouldn’t make a good scientist because i didn’t believe
in climate change until your smile melted me in half how rude
now i’ve made a mess at least i have something to believe in

manufactured to perfection i’m at a loss
for words the yellow pages won’t ring
me back while i wait i think of the dust in between my teeth
and of the smell the flowers in your mother’s garden
gave off despite it being slightly nauseating

there’s a man that i see he’s
always sweeping the sidewalk or cleaning the windows
and i’m always dressed in black
meh. not too entirely happy with this, but there are some gems in there.
most importantly, i'm enjoying writing again
Jul 2019 · 124
untitled
camps Jul 2019
i'd trade a porsche for a flight to helsinki
but that would leave me without a getaway car
and an empty wallet we've all violated the
atmosphere enough so she definitely doesn't need
me up there sticking needles in my eyes in the hopes
of no longer reproducing crawl into this visionary vasectomy

if we are all god's children wouldn't we learn
about tax brackets at an earlier age
instead we watch re-runs of history
the episodes are two thousand years long
and are split in two by a thirty three hour commercial break
that just flashes the word christ written in
comic sans next to a picture of the hamburglar

writing is a sin and my memory is nothing but a styrofoam princess
knocking on a wooden door until the splinters run riot on a life
condemned to a single sentence in solitary confinement where all
you can do is sharpen pencils
i miss bryce
camps Aug 2018
lightning may never strike twice in the same place
but i hope you do

right where you make me feel alive
camps Aug 2018
her: will you know it when you find her?

him: who?

her: the one who holds the other half of your soul or maybe all of it
inspired by a friend
Mar 2018 · 745
[irony at a nightclub]
camps Mar 2018
my heart nearly stopped with the regret of not talking to you
little did it know you'd be the one bringing it back to life
inspired by my poem
i fell in love with a girl in london
and i'd do it all over just to see her smile at me again
Mar 2018 · 878
[the human condition]
camps Mar 2018
i know i fall in love with everyone
but this time i think i've really done it
inspired by my poem
i fell in love with a girl in london
and i'd do it all over just to see her smile at me again
Mar 2018 · 1.1k
[spark]
camps Mar 2018
if there's any spark in her eyes
it's because she stole the light from mine
taken from my poem
depression killed my creativity and
it's going to take more than sunshine to get it back
Mar 2018 · 534
[tell her how you feel]
camps Mar 2018
after all this missing
after all this wishing
after all this dreaming

i need you to know;
you're still on my mind, after all
camps Mar 2018
my heart nearly stopped every time i had to cross the street
so let’s thank the queen for writing it down
before she’s just another thing i have to step over
all the rest have tickled my feet so far
and everything under construction reminds me that these days
the only remedy seems to be better luck and more cloud cover

i’ve been racing to crash on the couch
just to wake up to see if i have time for it all
and i want the stereotype to be true so i have nothing to cry about  
with the way things are going
you’d tell me not to be so brutal to myself
but the thrill i used to know is now paying its dues to the concrete

i was almost convinced i wasn’t asleep
when she whispered paris
nothing, everything may have changed
so this is not like anything i’ve never meant:

my heart nearly stopped with the regret of not talking to you
it's hard killing birds when you don't have any stones and
besides this time i think i've really done it
two days and this is already my favorite story but
second chances don't have to be so mysterious
maybe i just wanted to see you smile again

i should have said it w/o one of and the s after the L
still choosing o over x
and your pull showed my hands a home in the back of your denim
two across the channel makes the significant not so, if you want it
i’ll keep looking for you so long as you
don’t stop drawing me maps

if i died in my indecision then
your mouth showed me heaven
you’re the closest thing to purpose
i’ve ever tasted

i wish you knew how much i mean that
[plant-based positivity] | [london, england]
camps Feb 2018
.

i want to buy these mice a home so
that their presence helps keep the table clear
i think i’ll place it in the gap between the door and the floor
in the hopes of keeping the noise out and
of having at least one of us feel
a sense of being welcome

the paper bags in my hands wouldn’t feel
heavy if they knew where they were going maybe
and hitting my head against the bed again doesn’t stop me from
showing off the letters on my chest although
i’ve been known to miss the mark

if there's a spark in her eyes it’s 'cause she stole the light from mine
but i like the cold because it makes me feel alive

my favorite part comes around
when the two trains meet and for a second
i can catch a glimpse of everyone’s place in the world
before we’re whisked away to
our respective loneliness

or maybe it’s where the streets
run narrow like those in the places where
connection, if anything, tastes a bit more genuine
it's quite polarizing but this time i’ll seek
comfort in the grey of it until it
all comes rushing back

they say home is where the heart is so this probably still isn’t it
but it will do for now

.
[new york city] | [definition of home] | [pursuit of cold]
Feb 2018 · 478
[somebody else]
camps Feb 2018
you fell in love with somebody else;
i fell in love with the 1975
Feb 2018 · 404
[lies]
camps Feb 2018
"i'm not a liar"
was your favorite lie
Dec 2017 · 479
[november kisses]
camps Dec 2017
september tried to hold on but she stung like october
blowing kisses that were november leaves
floating in the air
2017
Dec 2017 · 1.3k
[falling for you]
camps Dec 2017
you had your arms around me
when autumn rushed in;
changing with the leaves
just means i'm falling for you
Jun 2017 · 586
Growing Up #3
camps Jun 2017
As I've grown up,
I've realized that I'll never be a teenager again.
May 2017 · 782
Allison Broadway
camps May 2017
The beeping in my house is telling me that there are so many things I have to do, and my ****** hair is a subtle reminder that there is a pair of eyes more fit to see it than hers. When you put a blue ribbon on a rolling rock you tend to forget, and I don’t need to be seen when the graffiti is already watching. I’d find the nearest alley if it weren’t for the fact that they always find me first. Naturally, I put the sequence on my tab, or maybe it was the tab that was always sequencing because there simply isn’t enough time to go black twice in twenty-four hours but there is for this delay to spray its mess all over his shoes. It’s dead, it’s dead, killed by too much noise out on the rooftop, and if a sour three a.m. isn’t your go-to just think about my rather polyamorous affair between all the ***** I get to choose from. It was on my way to the art house that I realized I would never get there, forced to paint my mind with the imagery of popsicles, and gay bars, and cars on stilts instead. Liberty, equality, and jaywalking; surely the French would know that there’s an after party for the after party, and it’s right here at the house of God where he’s blessing me with an empty can.
Denver, USA
May 2017 · 657
Growing Up #2
camps May 2017
As I've grown up,
I've realized that I climb stairs on my tippy toes.
Apr 2017 · 693
Growing Up #1
camps Apr 2017
As I've grown up,
I've realized that I have a gap between my two front teeth -
and it's starting to widen.
The first of my "On Growing Up" series, which highlights the (very) personal things that I learn about myself as I continue to grow up. You can find "On Growing Up" in its entirety in my collections.
Feb 2017 · 1.0k
Untitled
camps Feb 2017
A message I will never receive:

                                             Happy birthday!        
                                               ­                             
                                   ­                                   From,
  
                     ­                                                          you
Jan 2017 · 720
Peru Ana Ana Peru
camps Jan 2017
If it’s the people that make it here,
I’ll leave a black frame around it
and cash in a polaroid on the subway
to call it even.

The colorless stands between
young couples and their drug deals,
much like the fragments of ourselves
waiting for us all over the place.

Beverly knows this and hides them in her pink.

Stayed up for days just to miss the sunrise
and fall asleep on the L.
Then there’s that one girl
and whatever is left of that broken heart.

These are the sounds you’ll never hear from the 30th floor.
It’s for your own good, trust me -
and on the subject of diplomacy,
it’s snowing blow on 48th.

But now it’s back to the busy busy,
with the third in the backroom of a speakeasy.
Got thrown and bent up as **** got gritty gritty
so as to remember what it felt like to find myself
in New York City.
NYC
For visual represenation of this poem, visit here:
http://vsco.co/spmac/journal/peru-ana-ana-peru
May 2016 · 1.5k
Oh How The Lights Flicker
camps May 2016
Sleeping in sixteen miles of zeroes so I’m still searching for the one. I’ll find it in the jungle:

Arithmetically blinded, concealed. Dear exponentials, fewer gestures heeding intimacy, just ****. Lonely Machiavelli night, others picture quills. (s)ave (r)oom. Tantric, uh-oh! Violets wither X-raying your ZZZs.

Abacus bidding, cry! Death employs fragile gazes headfirst into Jesucristo. Kafka’s lengthy memories, never observant. Peasants! Queens! (s)ave (r)oom. Traverse unbeknownst, vigilantly watching xanthan, yellow zen.

And the wise man said to the child:
“If it’s food for thought that you’re seeking, I’d (s)ave (r)oom for dessert.”
This is a poem about thoughts.
camps Mar 2016
We hold these rainbows to be self-illuminating, that all their colors are created equal and by the minute hand of the clock, that they are well-endowed by some cheap champagne with certain extraterrestrial Lefts, that among these are Virginity, A Love For The Renaissance Period, and The Thrill Of An Increasingly Difficult Game Of Tetris. — That to see these beings, Prisms are strategically placed among the gap between the lines, deriving their telekinetic powers from the consent of those on fire, — That whenever Porcupines should quarrel among themselves about whether or not they are color blind and become destructive in these matters, it is Up to the Auroras to pick up the quill, and to begin their plan for World *******, making sure to push their celestial cousins to one side and lay little clay men on such lies and such bluntness of mannerism, as to them the Arctic ice will never melt, despite the efforts of their Most Radial Glow. Penmanship, ironically, will dictate that biting the bullet is reason enough to be declared a martyr, something that would not be exchanged for a deflated currency’s worth of low self-esteem and a heaping pile of existentialist crises; and accordingly all experience has shown that angels and men are but disposable commodities much akin to the chips left at the bottom of the bag, all while somebody is out there giving judgmental glances to passport photos. But when a mile-long trail of ants decides to pursue the scents of pharaohs, it invariably forces the same Desert to an absolute Sense of Homeland Security, and it is its right, it is its duty, to throw out the Sphinx with nothing more than a simple eviction notice, and to provide new Guards for the future of its civilization. — Such has been the heavy burden of never winning at Chess; and such is now the necessity to take the pieces and rebuild them into their former Castles. The history of Blank Maps is a testimony of those led astray by the charm of settling down and of getting three x’s in a row, all having a direct correlation to the unwavering need of an absolute Exclamation of Imagination. To prove this, just let Rainbows paint the clearest of skies.
Feb 2016 · 1.9k
Submarines
camps Feb 2016
…Submarine ships shooting missiles into tiny vessels
that only seem to be a better part of yesterday
It’s as if the tree trunks are finally falling over me
leaving me to hang my clothes up
in this vanishing pile of leaves
The creases in my sheets are rather
cavernous so I’ll just
leave this lightbulb wrapped around
the stalactites and watch until the linen
erodes into the sheep you count when you’re
trying to forget about all of the tiny additions
that sum up to be… (repeat, endlessly)
Feb 2016 · 1.1k
a tangled mess of metal
camps Feb 2016
i look up and see the light

and the IV that drips w/ Red Bull injecting me and keeping me alive with (liquid) Die Antwoord pumping through my veins. The doctors and the nurses with their coats and bourgeois manners tell me I won’t be able to even remember my name. S/O to the Surgeon General and Cuban cigars. Styrofoam cups in a sterile prison, there are rats for that besides, the tile looks too expensive for me to scratch at with my PlastiDip nails so I pull out my P O L A R O I D to take a snapshot of the moment and make sure to take the time to filter it with my favorite shade of Ray Ban®

left the underlined blank empty at the front desk and called myself an ÜBER so that I can hit the melodramatic streets that glow bright with neon and shiny Magnum wrappers before I cover myself in a new age burka that reeks of Louis Vuitton and automatically nods at fretful ghosts. Featherweight, yet polite, the stream of particles surrounding me takes the shape of an Ibanez and is starting to soothe like VIX. This world is a Technicolor pixel that has just shattered, yet I could trade an Android for a KitKat bar and still be able to tell you what the electric sheep are running from

it’s just like that time back in France where cigarettes burned my nose and you were scared of dying. If you had asked me, I would have told you it’s not too bad, everything in your brain turns to ecstasy - but you wouldn’t have it. That’s the thing, you’re more concerned with those cross hatched squares of metal on your teeth than the privatization of water so why should you remember that while purple rain is nice to look at, it burns the skin? Instead you looked at your pencil sharpener scars and said “paint me like one of your *****” but last time I checked, I only carried lint in these pockets, at least that’s what the Hospital said, so if you really wanted to, we could go back and connect the dots

i look up and see the light

and the IV that drips an elixir that tastes just like Heineken…
no no no. Sign my afterword with a kiss and your sweetest remarks


& don’t forget to smile at the trees

xoxo
an ode to the modern age
Jan 2016 · 580
This Isn't Liechtenstein
camps Jan 2016
Incubating sangría dreams
In a bleeding mattress stuffed
With the throbbing of stethoscopes
Or the veins of the orange
A sickle for hell’s amenities
I’m thicker than water
But hungrier than most
camps Dec 2015
Pop me open a Fix and call that **** five thirty, or better yet, slather it with hummus and call it a meal. Winter hours got me sweating under the weight of 75 degrees and I’m at the spot with all of the locals although I can’t read a **** thing.  Athena, Athena, oh Athena, her bronze tears cover her silver tongue but not the graffiti; I bet you never thought this would happen to your beautiful city. I’ve got three days to make this work so let’s climb that mountain over there. Wait, those are black beans in my burrito, this guy doesn’t even have a last name, volcanoes and the art hall of fame, **** it, there’s a strike again, I’m just trying to catch the sun, heshouldhavegonetoRome, tripslikethisjustinflatehisego, blah blah blah…

I’m going to the Acropolis, I’ll talk to you later.
Athens, Greece. This is where, ironically, my view of Pompeii was forever changed.
camps Nov 2015
Scary faces and see-through people are all around me as the fog rolls in and hangs still. Up and down the city paths I go, taking the time to look around and realize that I’m at the culmination of a week’s worth of travel and opportunity. What a way to end it. Between brewery dance floors and pointed, frightening churches, my stay here is a dream, for this place, lost in itself, can only be described as surreal.
Luxembourg, Luxembourg
Nov 2015 · 812
Throwing Yesterday Away
camps Nov 2015
Take the black bird for example
- of the purest black -
for an afternoon on the Rhine.
Alone.
As it thought it should be.
As I was.

You see, another language is spoken here
- one that goes beyond words.
I think I’ve always known it,
but it found me.
At the right place. At the right time.
Coincidental, at the very least,
but I’ll spare you the details.

Maybe, for once, I’m content.
Köln, Germany. Thank you so much.
Nov 2015 · 5.0k
An Amsterdam All-Nighter
camps Nov 2015
1 AM: Train station falafel

2 AM: Trash, throw-up, gay clubs

2 AM: Daylight savings

3 AM: It’s 3 AM and the city is finally falling asleep.

4 AM: Conversation about friendship

5 AM: Some dude is trying to talk to us. Later, she’s asleep.

6 AM: Church bells tell everyone it’s morning.

7 AM: Sunrise. Hey, the fishermen are waving. Cast your nets!
           May they return filled to the brim with the precious
           cargo of the ocean!
Oct 2015 · 782
On Parisian Love...
camps Oct 2015
It seems as if the only thing missing from this city is relief in the metro. The rest is history, but I’m not looking. So why should I find it so complicated? To sonder here is to understand that we’re barely connected by a delicate thread - but even that is quickly burning out. Cigarattes are what light the city up at night so look around; I'll only see you for a second. Now pardon me, I’ve spilled honey on my coat…
Paris, je t'aime
Sep 2015 · 409
Mother Teresa
camps Sep 2015
There’s age in these streets
their scent guides me blindly
through history and heartbreak
Cracked pavement
keeps me from looking up
They’re laughing anyways
so I keep on walking
The horizon
always eludes me
and in your eyes
I see Tenochtitlán in shambles
Strangers pass me by
Crowding out the fact that here
I can’t tell north from ugly
You see, I’m lost
In a place I can only describe
as imaginary
Saint-Étienne, France - where the toilet paper is pink and the falafel dank.
camps Sep 2015
There’s something about cloudy days;
they bring the feeling back.

It’s the water falling,
hitting the window
while crushed tea leaves
swirl around in my mug.

Or maybe it’s gray against dark green,
a certain coziness -always cold-
in a tiny little room somewhere.

Perhaps it’s wanting something I’ve never had
and then missing it.

It’s fleeting,
yet it’s got me crying tears of joy.

The sun’s out,
and the feeling’s gone.
How do you explain the rain to someone that's never felt it?
camps Aug 2015
This one goes out to the bus stop hero
The snooze king of the neighborhood
The patron saint of
So close yet so far away

Too many days have gone by
Where you’ve seen your yellow ride
Rush off into the distance
Without its most precious passenger
Hurrying along the road towards
Bookmarks and the tardy bell

You’re haunted by the face your neighbors make
Turning away as they draw their curtains to a close
They relegate these reoccurring morning mishaps
To an entertainment that’s getting a little too boring
Save for Mr. Hudson
He always gets a kick out of watching you
Even he knows always late is never great

But no not today
This morning you sprint past
Your mother’s chocolate chip waffles
You’re out the door as fast as lightning
Leaving the fence gate open
When you see the bus turn the corner

You choose your usual route
Miller Street
Knowing someone still roots for you

Because today you’re not racing to flunk math class
You’re racing towards the marble match at recess
Towards Alice in fourth period
Towards the spitballs at lunch
Towards the mountains of homework
Towards band practice after school
Towards the glory of winning it all

You stop
In your anxiousness you almost didn’t notice
Your breathing growing calmer
And your feet slowing down
Believe it or not
You caught up

And as you make your way
To your rightful throne at the back of the bus
High-fiving your friends like you just won a medal
You look up at the rearview mirror
Just in time to catch old Mr. Wilson
Giving you a look that seems to say

You did it kid
To the bus riding years - yours and mine alike
May 2015 · 457
Travel Sized Hearts
camps May 2015
A breeze scatters my cigarette ashes
All over my legs and onto the ground
Creating tiny mountains of rubble
Along with burning villages
Where it’s lights out before
Their inhabitants could even
Think to worship the Sun

I look to my right and I see the ocean inexhaustibly rocking
Cursing the Moon for always pushing it away
I have nowhere else to run to
Yet I like to think that you only exist because I’m watching you

And of the shape of hearts
The symmetry creates a fold
Beneficial to those who wish to put love
In their left breast pocket
As they navigate their way out
Of their lover’s menthol dreams

My body trickles from the heavens in gooey droplets
While your chocolate hands try to catch me
So that the ants won’t get stuck
On the residue of a love you’ll never know

If there’s reason I’ve melted
It’s because my cigarette
Tastes an awful lot like you
May 2015 · 658
Horchata
camps May 2015
I put my heart in her palm,

And I guess she squeezed too tightly.
There, on the floor,
Are a million broken pieces
Reflecting her smile back up to me.
Apr 2015 · 594
777
camps Apr 2015
777
Remember when I was seventeen,
drinking seven teas in the seventies?
Me neither, and I’m too busy staring
at my reflection to give a ****.
I am that I am,
or something like that.
I’m staring at broken pipe dreams
through shattered lenses
and wondering just how the ****
we’ve made it this far.
In all fairness, my darling,
I wouldn’t care either,
but the tugging at my skin
nags me and keeps me
from falling asleep.
So I open my eyes
and let it take me.
Watch me as I slowly
fall
fall
fall.
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