I don't want to mend my relationship with you
I want to let it bleed
So that everyone can see what you did to me

The simplicity of rhymes
freely flows
through the readers mind.
As simplistic words unravel
in an array of poetic babble
we channel
the memes of our muses.

No forced word can capture,
no college can teach
the aesthetics of laughter,
the glamour of grief.

The essay of brilliance
awaits in the zone.
The Muse and the Master
in the hearts of gold.

you've been sitting in my head for a month now
the least you could do is scrub our memories off the
sides of my brain.
i pick the hairs that stand up whenever someone says your name.
Its like a cold breeze on the back of my neck
not refreshing
the kind that puts fear in your heart
as i walk down the street your shadow follows me
up until i make it back home, you’ll rest in my head
and i’ll never get any sleep
when i wake up in the morning your already there
still engraving your name into my brain
where the physical parts of you are still in your room
doing whatever it is your doing without me
and i can’t help but wonder
do i have my own room in your house of thoughts
do you go down our halls of memories
and fix the pictures frames that are slightly crooked with a faint smile.
hopefully everything isn’t packed up in boxes
labeled with the word fragile in red ink.
you’ve always been sitting in my head
you don’t have to trim the nostalgia off the branches
of our tree in the back yard.
i’ll sit under it and look up to see the sun-rays peak through
and with a blink of an eye
i pull myself out of my head and yearn for the day you come back home.