What does it mean to be human?
Does it mean that your body is flesh and bone?
My body is made of plastic.
What are you made of?
What makes a person whole?
Is it fulfillment? Happiness? Soul?
Whatever the case, I am not whole.
Are you?
Are humans intelligent or ignorant?
I am both.
Which one are you?
Are humans kind or wicked?
I do not know which one I am.
Do you know?
Do humans get to choose who they are?
I have tried to mould myself as best I can, into the person I want to be
Have you?
Are you human?
I am, decidedly, not human.
I am that which I do not know of
I am that which I do not wish to discover
I hope never to know who I am.
Who are you?

their timelines brag "lives"
but a grin I learn to keep
in patterns I don't forget
today is a lot better
than when I tried my own end

a wan moonlight wades
the pond of the cold tiled floor
beaming existence
I could look up yet choose a
reflection of its presence

I look at the moon and think of you.

People are loopy
People ain't right
Inside of their heads
Out of their minds

People are nutty
Loco coco bean
Imaginary buddies
Putty for brains

People are batty
Fruit loops that fly
Come in different colors
Confetti minds

People are special
They say with a wink
Jumped the train trestle
Over the brink

Pick one or the other
No answer is wrong
It's all the above
When people are off

Why does it always feel like
no one's listening
when I talk?

for now,
all i can do,
is trust that someone
out there,
somewhere in the universe,
feels the same way
i do.

I cannot help but compare people to plants.

We are born,
Blooming throughout our lives
We sow seeds and bear fruit.

Like trees,
We take root spreading far and wide
And yet we wither and die in the same soil

Even still,
The flower petals dance through the sky
And our greatest adventure continues.