The heat seeping into my body through my hands
The steam sticking to my face like glue
The smell of peppermint surrounds me

I close my eyes and listen to the thunderclap
I listen to the rain hit my window

I fall apart
I shatter
Into a million little pieces

I feel the tea splash onto my hand as I shake
It burns but I enjoy the pain
It reflects the pain in my heart

Footsteps
I throw up my walls
Wipe away the tears
Clean up the tea

I'm fine.

hey, whatsup break me open and have a look inside
a suh dood check out these heady feels but like
whoa bruh they tell me
simmer down
you're harshin that mellow
yellow matter it's no matter tell me something new
find me something else to say I'm a
fried egg in a skull here's some banter
gallop trot and canter I'm just horsin' around
of course it's not finely ground buddy 'ol pal
you'll have to crush it up yourself
if ya wanna snort it
but hey let's abort that mission
I'm just tryin' to chill in the kitchen
all I want is a nice meal I don't want
anyone to steal these lasts wisps of my soul
let's smoke a bowl and forego the physical
maybe think about something quizzical
something that'll bring me elsewhere
anywhere but before

in another universe  
It's summer
Your laugh still sounds the same
and your smile is still contagious
Your favorite color is still orange
the smell of rain floods into the room
we are tangled up together
we share stories
You promise to be mine forever

in this universe
It's winter
a boy in my class has a laugh that reminds me of yours
I stopped sitting by him
I see your smile in your pictures with her
Remember when I told you my favorite color was purple?
It's not anymore  
I'm sure yours still isn't orange
It's cold all the time now
It doesn't smell like rain
I'm laying alone in the blanket you bought me
I didn't know forever only lasted 3 years

Dear love,
Bear with me. My soul has been to hell and back. My brain is clouded by the sting of the pain. I want to love and feel. But all that I am is hate. My soul is broken but I attempt to light a candle and build a sun anyways. Yet the chill of the wind whisks it away. I can not tell you what's worse, I am either drowning in the ocean or starving in the desert. There is no in between. I am fighting a loosing battle and can not see the end of the tunnel.
Dear love, bear with me.

I sit here pondering on what I should write
My mind goes left
My mind goes right
The left is all unicorns, fantasies, and such
The right holds a more scientific touch
My left is screaming love and lust
While my right states clearly
Honestly, you are not ready to trust
So on to the pen and parchment I write
While my thoughts go left
Then turn and take a sharp right

When we've gone astray on distant shores,
          Our loved ones lost, our hearts ignored,
                 When our fears put us to chase. 
              Sometimes we want nothing more
               Than to visit that same old place.

2/15/16

If I'm being honest
I'm tired of being a poet.
I'm tired of findig meaning in everything from the lines of the sky to the cracks in the side walk
I'm tired of using extended metaphors to explain how overwhelmed or angry or sad I am 
I'm tired of immortalizing the people I love or hate in half assed lines of poetry
For once I would like a good day just to be a good day or a bad day just to be a bad day
A landscape to hold no higher meaning than to magnify the glory of existence
For the people I know to hold no cosmic significance in the fabric of time
I would like to sit and be quiet
To write and be at peace
For the storm to pass over
And to find some relief
This is not a game for me this is how I breathe and I am tired of having to hold meaning in every crack and every crevice
My poetic nature has become a menice in my tired skin
I'm tired of letting the light in
But this isn't something you quit
This is something you breathe
This is something you are
This is something you need
Even if it doesn't make sense all the time
This is the one true thing I know that's mine
My sense of rhythm and my sense of rhyme
And it isn't easy all the time
Because these days life moves faster than I've even known
Faster than I can process what I've been shown
These days it's easy to feel the weight of all of my time spent alone
My mind isn't home
I'm chilled to the bone
These days I'm tired of being tired and tired of writing about how tired I am
Like I'm six feet under but I'm not yet dead
Using poetic devices to say what's already been said
I'm tired of playing this game
Imortalizing name after name
I still feel the same
Even though I still keep writing
So what I'm trying to say is that I need poetry like I need water but sometimes if you drink too fast or you drink too deep you feel like you're drowning
Out to sea in familiar surroundings
It's astounding how tiring being a poet can be.