A man in a hotel
witnesses some smoke
on his television
shot from a news copter
flying quite high
above the town below,
above a school, where
the schoolchildren of
Ms. Appleby’s class
turn in their papers,
but clamor to see a
woman on the side
of the road, who kept
her eyes on the road,
but crashed anyway.
The woman was calling
her husband- you
couldn’t see this from
the helicopter- but John,
her husband, was on
vacation in Hawaii
and will have to return
to his children, who
last told him of their
combined A+ in a project
written about the dangers
of cell phone use on
the road, done for their
teacher, Ms. Appleby.
John of the hotel
hangs up his phone,
and sighs.

Three delightfully key words: 'miser miserable able' - One's miserable from being a miser until he's finally able.

To: Depression 2
From: Depression 1

To my dearest questioner of the world,
Sometimes I think you think too much,
And in your head, your thoughts get swirled.
Your brain is filled with curiosity and examination
And this is most times good, you see.
But somehow or another you always end up feeling lost in frustration.
And this, my dear questioner, is not a good way to be.
You aren’t good at circulating what you feel, I know.
But sometimes it makes me sad to think that you’re sad on the inside,
And that you feel like a burden if you were to ever show.
High School is close to being over, it kind of went like a breeze.
And just in case you were not aware, or it never crossed your mind,
I went through living hell at that institution, and you helped put me at ease.

I will never forget when we were at the beach and I was explaining to you what Prozac Nation was about. And you suddenly stopped  in your tracks.
And my eyes started to well up.
And you stared because you knew.

You're changing this cocoon heart
The butterflies are too big for my stomach
so they venture to the ends of my being
I’m growing wingtips for fingertips that flutter when you laugh
And in the moments I make your eyes smile, I fly
All the while, unraveling the most fragile strands of myself
Like string simply because
The only thing holding me is your hands

I am a kite
I ascend to the top of the universe with mirth, unafraid of falling,
And fall, I do
I fall over and over again every time your cheeks blush
And every time you bring me back down to Earth
You bring me in, and you hold me close
And what puts my mind at ease is
Our ribs are starting to fit together like puzzle pieces
Our hearts are fusing like science I can’t comprehend,
But if God was a card dealer, I’d understand, because
God dealt me the very,
Very best hands

Your hands
that shock mine every time I touch them
And when that happens we never fail to search
For the sparks in each other’s eyes
We peer into each other’s souls
Finding atoms that fizz like fireworks
I am finding God in your electricity
We hold still for the Lord
But absolutely nothing about this is static

I am the ocean
There is more life swimming inside of me than anyone’s ever seen
And somehow you are still more astonishing
You are the moon
From dust, God made you to hold me
You push and pull me
Like tides, gently rocking me to sleep
We are standing still
But love is not something we can stop if we squeeze

Like trying to catch rivers in our bare hands
We’re finding it more enchanting to catch each other’s raindrops on our tongues
Because we are water cycles, and some days
We are drenched in this love
Finding it ironic how our torrential downpours only lift us up
So, we hold hands
Run through the rain
And know that no matter how hard we squeeze
It will never stop

I want to go dancing
I want my feet to sing louder than my voice
I want them to sing in tune with the colors your lips make when you sing
Because I’m so close to colorblind that the rest of my senses are heightened
And nothing tastes sweeter than the
Rainbows you whisper on my eardrums

But I want to feel softer than this
I want to touch subtler than two magnets never ever can
But still have the same fervor
I want our ribs to feel less like rickety fences
And more like toy xylophones
Or the color spectrum

So one day we’ll have mapped out each other’s blues
And we can truly say, we’re on the same wavelength
So that one day,
Our hearts will beat lullabies on our skeletons,
Reminding us even the hard things in life can be beautiful
If we let it

I know that fuzzy feels cozy
And change can be crippling
But as I dream stars through the silk sheets
I hold your hand
And pray you won't supernova in the morning

across the mountains
           and the land
the sea whispers
                    mistakes

dear god
i was thinking about it the other day
the dying the sickness the hunger
the one person getting hurt equaling a million prayers
yet the boys and girls being thrown in the basement bruised and battered get nothing

i've been praying for sixteen going on seventeen years
and what do i get
little
but the years before fourteen meant little
every year after meant a lot
my heart and soul went into hoping war would end and children would thrive
and she would fight for me

but alas
none of this came true

children starve and are beaten
women are *****
men are murdered
unthinkable acts of violence must go unseen because we worry about the small things

so verily verily i give unto you, this time, my final prayer
an echo a dream of space and the universe
of peace and love of literature and poetry
of songs sung loudly proof proof i need proof
i want her to love me
not anyone else because that will not be true
and even though i say this over and over again
that all i want is some peace of mind and some attraction to last throughout eternity
i figure, knowing you (for the most part)
nothing will come through and I'll be left here to fight in the Nothing

keep a man with two billion dollars safe and sound, though
you're good at that