there are two
kinds of sad days

the first kind is
periwinkle
with specks of
yellow sun throughout
where a soft cotton
fog covers everything
you can see and hear
and your limbs move
without you telling them to

automatic through
life with your brain
lost in thought
yet rattling around like
ice in an empty cup
void of cognition you
just have to keep putting
one foot in front of the other

and the second kind
is baby blue
smooth and soft like
fresh paint that has
dried and sealed
shut all the doors and
covered the windowpanes
so no light leaks in

and your body is
no longer compelled
to keep on moving so
you shut your eyes
against the overpowering
color of sad
and sleep
right there
on the hard floor

today started a
periwinkle sunshine day
and turned into a
baby blue paint day

few and far between
nowadays do i let
the blues get me
but today i felt the
last of the strength
i had been gripping
onto with both hands
trembling slip away

a white feather floating
off into the distance
or pink champagne
spilt on hot pavement
soaking in as i watched
it and boiling tears
wash away my scrawled
chalk drawings
of happy stick figures
and flowers that bloom
all year round

it’s silly
of me
never made
sense

but here i am
here are the blues
here’s a headache
behind my eyes

and here
is my bed
a soft field of
nothingness
where maybe sleep
can scrape the paint
off of the windows and
crack open the doors

all i was ever looking
for was home
is that too
much to ask?

To avoid the hurt welling u    p in my chest
I needed to keep moving t    o avoid it
So I climbed my way to t    he top
of the cruel mountainsi    de
while rain fell down o    n
my pale, wincing fac    e
and I laced my fing    ers
together in a sort o    f
embrace and shiv    ers
began to race up     my
spine, so with h    aste
I began to pac    e on
top of slick r    ock
not paying     attention
to where I     was stepping
and I slip    ped and fell
the tears     began to well
up in m    y eyes
no sur    prise
I bro    ke myself again
whi    le I was trying
to    hide
f    rom
    him

Sick,
is the sea, I love
behold the wobbling blue sky,
the boat rocks,
my rod drops,
I fall overboard
elated.

Last night before the sun went down
I was walking along the pathway
By the train tracks around the  trains station's depot holding area
Graffiti catching my eye
I passed a deer not five feet away
I said 'hi' and the doe just watched me walk by