, but depression seems the more obvious
topic to exhaust recently.
and i went running this morning to feel less fat
and stretched afterwards in a short-winded burst of resolution.
An hour later i collapsed into the arms of a friend
and exchanged ambiguous signals with him until night fell:
(he wants a friend, i want a kiss, you see).

I'm actually happy right now,
energetically kicking the can down the road.

When you are sitting with
beautiful people, and
you still feel sad,
does that say a thing about you?

Well, if you're asking me,
I don't want to be nervous anymore.

Maybe I can't tell my friends
that I'm happy because
last week I found myself covered in mud
and still didn't feel as *****
as the days I found myself
still trying to wash
your fingerprints off.

I am not a poet
But when thoughts, like rain,
Drench me in my solitude,
Words, they flow like a stream.
I am not a poet
But how can I see
The simpler joys of life,
And not create a song to be sung.
I am not a poet,
Nor an artist.
I am myself,
And you are my masterpiece.
I am not a poet,
If you are not the dream.
If I am a poet,
*Then you are what sets these pages on fire.

Your sun stroked fingers
smooth my dusted galaxies
spoiling orbiting blues
with swipes of stardust.

You kiss meteors, murmur
how you savored snippets
of Jupiter's moons in the
spaces of a poetic eclipse.

Adorning Saturn's rings
in your nebulous tombs,
rekindling your smile with
flames of lovers past.

The memory is still buried
within my core, a pounding
resonance that evokes the bloom
of summers kiss on Earth.

A welcome release for the
nights wandering stars.