You didn’t know you found your very own Icarus.
She seeks the sky
Full of pride
Full of belief
—she can do better than those who came before her.

She has spent years fawning over those wings of wax—
Denying realities of
Gravity’s fatal pull,
Rejecting effects of
Scorching heat.

She doesn’t want you to stop her
(Though she loves you because she knows you’ll try).

Just like those who came before her,
She understands there is but one moment to
Feel the sun,
The gilded air,
Before burning up
Or crashing into eternal shade.

I’m writing tonight.
It’s been awhile; I’ve been quiet,
Like I had nothing to say.

alone, at midnight,
a glutton, i writhe with shame —
mac ‘n’ cheese my bane.

Tonight, this **** dog
Keeps farting himself awake.
Sleep seems quite futile.

boys
the way you try to look away in time
the way your hair falls in your face
or the way you hide under that hat or that band shirt

the way you pull me close
the way you smell my hair
and the way you throw me away

the way you lay your head on my chest
the way you talk like love
but the way you act like lust

the way you pick you pants up off my floor
the way you tie your shoes
and the way you walk out the door


men
the way your hands hold
like you’ve never seen something so precious
the way your nose is sweet
and the way your face is kind

the way you close your eyes when you smile
the way you sigh when my hands are in your hair
the way you ask me what i think
and the way you like who i am

i’m three beers in, alone
when i should be at home.
you’re god knows where
when you should be here.

i don’t cry
i don’t get caught on the little things
i do though,
without you

can we go watch the stars again?
slowly floating near each other
never meeting
like us
until it was too late

i feel like wearing all black
i feel like my scuffed docs
i feel like dark nail polish
and i feel like a fourth beer

dear painted mask slipping off my face,
wet mildewed socks clinging to weary feet,
molasses on my hands shrouded in gloves of lace –
you in the cracked mirror, you rotten, rancid, discarded piece of meat.

o, knotted wicked web of thread,
the faucet of my eye leaks.
emily’s funeral in her head –
it took three weeks

to admit the rot the plumber missed.
to cry when the evening light is dying –
to say that i’m sad – to say i’m ******.
to watch and feel my circuits frying.

blinded and fooled and beaten, i ran and crashed into not-love –
maybe i’m an idiot, because i still can’t tell a pigeon from a dove.

i’m trying to smile today
so far it’s going okay
yesterday hurt
my heart got burnt

but today,
so far,
i sang in the car
and i think it’s going okay

maybe it was too bold
to say how i felt,
but isn’t that what all those **** songs say?

“tell them, before you grow old”
maybe that’s also how heartbreak is spelt.
now all i really want to say to the universe is “f*ck you” this monday.

i see your silhouette
at every stoplight
like an apparition
like the ghost you became to me

but why didn't you say a final thing in closing?
(aren't business deals kind of your thing?)
why ask a question and fade away?

i want to be mad
(and sometimes i am)
but i can't be for long
you showed me
how to like me

maybe it was damage control
before the damage was done
got me on your hook
and ripped it out before
you left for good

i want to be sad
(and sometimes i still am)
but i can't be for long
you're chasing your dream
and you say you want the same for me

i am not prepared
and i'm glad.
because what else would there be left to learn?
in this huge
endless
ever-changing world?

our work is never done -
and thank /goodness/ it's not.
for we seek goodness,
but like competence,
will we ever actually reach it?

how can we stop here?
how can we be fully prepared?
how can we ever just find that holy grail?
what would be left to chase?
with an entire world to see, how can we narrow our vision
to one place
at one time?

i never want to leave my mark
on one place
at one time.
i never want to be comfortable,
stagnant,
still.

for we truly do have one
most glorious
most outstanding
most unique
most painful
most bittersweet
most fleeting
life.
this life won't make sense.
sometimes, it feels like we don't make sense.
yes, it's all strange -
it's all foreign,
in the best way.

so, no - i'm not "prepared."
i am ready.

why
are you different?
why
are you magic?

how
do you make time stand still?
how
did you make a home in my head?

do you even know?
you are like the rain
i’m the frightened field

maybe one day, we can help each other
hurt a little less
grow a little more
create a little masterpiece
together

but if not

all i want
is your lips
in that smile
for all the days in your life

all i want
are your hands
making art
for all the days in your life

all i want
is your heart
to be joy full
and your spirit tired less
for all the days in your life