A buff of cigar smoke and an autumn in the park candle on a
60 degree December night after my last glass of pink grapefruit sangria.
It is 5:00 a.m.
Christmas is over.
I'm reading a book titled "It's Kind of a Funny Story". The story involved a young man named Craig who enjoys ******* in the dark and drawing Paper Towns.
I cannot tell if I am a part of a funny story or a sad one.
I cannot tell if I am happy or sad.
I can only say that my eyes droop when I'm tired
and my head's a little fuzzy
and Craig's forehead is pretty damp
and so is mine
and the depression is winning.
It is 5:00 a.m.
It is the night after Christmas and we can't sleep.
The air is thick and sweaty.
My brother's girlfriend underlined, "But your relationship with air - that's key. You can't break up with air. You're kind of stuck together".
Now, I don't know my brother's girlfriend but it is clear that Craig and I are not alone in this feeling.
She must have felt it too.
We depressed people - We're kind of stuck together.

My cellphone is a drug.
I need to feel its buzz to know
I will always grab the attention of somebody.
My self worth relies on how many people
Like my self-portrait
Or note this poem.
Somewhere along the way I started to measure my friends
By the number of followers
I had on twitter
Or how many people
Commented upon my profile picture
To tell me I looked beautiful in the light.
I know that I am pretty and
That I could write a decent poem if I tried.
I know that I'm never alone
But I cannot bear this silence.
For more than an hour
My phone has not rung.
No one has called me today.
Am I forgotten?
I cannot sit still
With this possibility ringing through-
With access to nearly a million people
In my back pocket-
How could they all forget me?
I'll admit I am a self-absorbed attention *****;
A product of the 21st century.

I don't know what it's like
to live where
the climate doesn't change
where there aren't
empty
           spaces
of
           cold
to fill the void
of warmth
Where I know tomorrow
won't feel anything like yesterday
Where time doesn't stop
Not even for a moment
Where one nice day
Could feel everlasting
but like this thought, ends.
Where every life has a beginning
and ending.
Where nothing is really permanent.
And things can be replaced
easy
as
the weather
in this
confused
town
Mother Nature might be the devil
but she does a satisfactory job of preparing you
for the day that things change.
For the time when time stops.
She does a great job of showing you things
you weren't prepared for.
Think of all the times you've been caught in the rain
without an umbrella
and ran away
instead of
staying to fight
it might not have killed you
but just know
If the weather doesn't **** you
something else will.
All a part of harmony.