This city is ******* the life out of me,
in such a fast and glamorous manner.

I want to run away.
Wanderlust does not even begin to describe the extent of what I am feeling.
Cabin fever, no,
I have cabin flu.
I am coughing,
and sneezing,
and wheezing bits and pieces of my soul amidst mucus in my lungs.
I am losing myself,
stuck within the confines of every habit
and being
that has overtaken me and I have grown so accustomed to over the years.
It is time to cut ties.
Be alone, and free.
Isolation is the key to discovering the authentic me.

"You get this smile," he says, "one that looks like you may just ****** everyone and enjoy every moment of it, but it's cute and calming at the same time."

He says, he likes the way I wear angst, and awkward.
He displays emotion like no one I've ever known.
Lying with him is somber,
and beautiful.
Lying with him is comfortable, is home.

Every fiber of my being is screaming
Push him away

Reciprocation of his investment frightens me like needles in my spine,
I am fine
on my own.

What scares me is not being let down.
But, I could not bear to let him down
again.

Lonely was once only caring for someone, and them not caring back.
But what is to be said about having someone care for you, and being incapable of caring back?

Numb, is a special breed of pain.
But I am not giving up this time.

High risk, high reward.
Just like the stock market.
You don't always get back what you put in.

High highs,
and low lows.
I wouldn't have it any other way,
I dare say, I have never felt more alive.
Casual Thursday identity crises that are anything but casual,
a relentless battle with self.
Regardless, it's time to saddle up.
Get out of your car,
relinquish the cigarette smoke and anguish,
we've all got **** to do,
and so we abide.
I am biding my time to unbind my euphoria.
A moment so clear and distinct,
where it's 2 am, the coffee house is closing,
and we've still so much to say.
I am well on my way,
despite the massive lack of sleep,
coffee and cigarettes to eat,
and it's better than a five course meal.
Optimism and bliss, for an instant,
that feels perhaps, in perpetuity.
Intermittence of all that was ever felt,
in greater doses,
to feed an addiction
of high highs,
and low lows.

I want to feel as though my heart has been dipped in hot wax.
Layer, upon layer,
A sharp heat at first, until cooling begins and I begin to
relax.
I want to feel captured in an intricate, never-ending puzzle,
around every corner there's wonder,
and I am taken aback.
I want nothing short of hopeless passion,
to sell my soul in a mysterious fashion.
I am so sick of my heels over my head,
my feet placed so firmly on the ground.
No longer can I lay alone here in bed and be
content.
This drifting must come to an
end.
This wax heart must feel
again.

Do we truly inherently pursue companionship limited to one singular human?
Or has the idea simply been romanticized through generations,
allowing us to believe that from creation
we have a soul mate,
a sole mate.
I can't imagine it is my fate to be chained to one single human;
I seek growth extending much further than the arm span of a solitary being.
Nobody has all the answers,
nobody has everything.
Together, we are everything,
everyone is everything,
and everything is one.
Monogamy is dead.
The question that haunted me
ever so frequently has been resolved.
I have evolved,
No longer will I query,
who is the one?
I am the one.
We all are the one.
Everyone is
one.

Insomniacs
Ain't no rest for the wicked,
But my mother says nothing righteous happens after midnight.
I don't know,
Maybe that's it,
I like being a hooligan.
I must like to feel young again.
But wait,
I am still quite youthful.
I've got a great deal time,
Too much time,
And too much on my mind.
I disregard my adolescence in the depths of my brain,
Because hours feel like days
When it's so ******* late and you're still awake.
There's so much emotion erupting from my soul, my pith.
Not enough hours in the day to contain it,
But I feel as though I can hardly maintain it.
I'm losing my ****,
I must get grip,
It's 2 am, and I should probably quit.

I know what I'm worth.
From death to birth, I'll have possessed value for self,
I will not be placed on anyone's shelf to sit and gather dust.
I will not play games,
and I'm not ashamed,
I am not here to be framed and hung on a wall.
I am alive.
Possesed with thoughts like bullets,
My gun is aimed, cocked, and loaded,
Ready to fire at a pin-drop.
I won't be dropped,
like your cigarrette butts,
chucked,
left for the wind to decide my fate.
I am worth more
than a text message
I am more
than small talk
I will not be fooled
when you tell me I am the coolest person you know,
Because you don't know me anymore than the gentleman making your coffee.
Your words mean nothing,
when used in such numerous repetition.
And I'll be ****** if you actually petition
to listen to what I have to say.
I know what I am worth,
and it is strikingly more than what you presume.