Covered in the soot
of last years math lesson
his drooping, purple button up looks as though
it has soaked in as much chalk
as he has knowledge.

A fragile bent-over body
even more worn than his blue jeans
and his thin, but wrinkled hands.

He is witty
Calculating,
and as cool as the deep grey slate
that he writes his stories across.

His white hair matches his dusty fingers--
dry,
and thinning
with nothing much left
to give.

I imagine him going home to a wife
Even though I have never seen
a ring.
His thin, and brittle body
Taking in the warmth of a woman.
A soft  woman
The only one who knows how to love him.
She fills up the edges of his concave bones
the tender heart that he never had.
A Juliet who escaped his callous,
chalked-over hands.

A human
that can, somehow,

make him Smile.

This time last year
I was so happy.
Today I can't stop staring at
my basket of laundry,
wishing it would
fold itself.

Let me simplify
what you can't justify
by saying
it's futile
and unimportant.
You're lackluster
and distorted.
This time is vacuous
And holds no meaning
So watch it play out
And quit your dreaming.

A child, oh to not understand death
whisper in the wind
feels like forever, mere fractions of moments
alas, life is not long enough
to behold every wonder the world has to offer
wishing to be a child forever
dancing in innocence
what is there to bring woe
for a child does not understand death
life blossoming eternally
never ending possibilities
oh how I envy you sweet child
never grow up
evermore let your spirit soar
please, for the sake of your humanity
do not become what the world sees
retain sweet blissful ignorance
for a child does not understand death