sometimes i want to stick my foot so far into my mouth
that it makes it to my stomach
and i digest it.
but that's okay, we all say stupid things sometimes.

if we're thinking in terms of heads and hearts
what have i got to show?
my head is where my heart is
and my head is also where my head is
over thinking, over thought
jumping from swings never
took so long

I can't stop thinking, thinking, thinking
Scratching skin, pulling hair
I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry
Oh god, did I say something wrong?
Foot in mouth.
Did I lock the door?
I don't know if I locked the door.
Did I say something wrong?
Foot in throat.
What time is it?
Bouncing leg, shaking hands
I messed up, didn't I
Did I say something wrong?
I said something wrong.
Foot in stomach. Digest foot.
I'm sorry I'm so messed up.
Did I turn the lights off?
Did I take the food out of the oven?
Did I forget to slow down?
Help me to slow down.

Sometimes being a poet
means being very sad
yet being very sad
does not mean
that people will know that
and that
makes me very sad

I look back upon my own words and wonder
who wrote these?
It seems like it should be me
but it feels so foreign.
The scrawl of my own writing from mere months ago
looks like entirely new handwriting
and it's all really bad
****
my poems are all really bad

you told me you've never kissed anyone
and i was very surprised
and you thought it was a bad thing
but actually
it's about the cutest thing i've heard all week
and it just makes me want to kiss you

I found myself
painting a picture of a cigarette
and I found it really strange
that I was painting on the smoke
with watercolors