I realized today that I have
stopped living life.
I am literally just trying to get
to the next day, just living in the
thought of tomorrow.
I am not living, I am waiting.
And the trouble is, I don't know what
I am exactly waiting for. I am kind of
scared for what it might be.

The cloud on fire
Cried hearts and I
Jumped into puddles.
It looked at me
With bloodshot eyes
So I offered a cig.

With dusty wings
and awkward flight
Your tiny buffalo body
bounces on the
delicate glass surface.
An exaggerated shadow
announces your plight.
Is it the beauty of
the butterfly
that spurs you.
Why so frustrated;
so persistent?
Do you know of emotion?
Maybe you do,
and it is your own
dark turmoil
that draws you to the
glass skirted flame.