would you rather spend your summer
unemployed
or single?
either way you're spending
plenty of unfulfilled time

would you rather drive
an hour everyday to a place you hated
or drive one minute to a place which made you cry?
the amount of preparation needed depends on the person

would you rather break someone's heart
just to see what it feels like
or have someone break your own
to remind you how much it can hurt?

would you rather watch two old people ****
or watch two siblings ****?

would you rather every person you ever met
knew what you looked like naked
or you knew what every person looked like naked?
either could be mentally scarring

would you rather have explosive farts
for a random hour everyday
or everyone around you had explosive farts
for a random hour?

would you rather break down in the middle of Times Square
and have everyone remember
or break down on the floor in your room
and have no one notice?

would you rather every regret you have
was tattooed on your body in the form of scars
or every scar on your body told a story
anyone could hear?

would you rather keep playing
or try a new game?

when this music decides there's
nothing to say
nothing but dust and dead weight
settling into the same hands
which lifted the sky
and danced with uncertainty
breathing new life into each and
every adventure
raising beer glasses and interconnected hearts
beating as one
lost in the dream of some evening

this perfectly earned patience
reward blossoming with magic
unafraid of dying
even when it's happening

the language is nothing but old lies
corrupting any chance for conversation
silence best suits this air
cold
and harmless
it's the third party
stuck in place when everyone leaves

it's all somehow trapped inside
a thousand yesterdays
so close you can relive them all
where the now is so real it's terrifying
always standing by the edge of past tense
able to fall at any point

stepping onto the E train
where it's so claustrophobic
you might as well cut out your lungs
and die

that would be a bit dramatic
though not as much as the pain
bottled up in the eyes
which want to cry but can't
looking through you not at you
just don't take it personally

walking along 3rd avenue
where cars colonize the street
like it's a newly found kingdom
labeling yourself a New Yorker is a title
not yet earned
since you still check Google Maps sometimes

why bother getting lunch two blocks down
at some unheard of but kinda cool pizza place
when there's a Chipotle right here
and Nintendo World is a few blocks away
and Midtown Comics is right around the corner
there's magic to this

setting your search on Tinder to one mile away
where your options are as endless as your "swipe lefts"
wondering if the next one is the one
it could be, couldn't it?

work ends and you reenter the flux of people
moving so fast it's like they're running away
maybe it's getting Happy Hour drinks
or simply going home

there's less summer every day
only a little bit of sunlight at the end
not much but something to cherish

the ******* about it being hot
will soon be the ******* about it being cold
seeing yourself march through a labyrinth of strangers
going here to there
sometimes with life scaring you
moving into territory without open arms

this filth which I can't for the life of me
rinse away
it stays with me like a scar
public shame to suffocate my progress

in this heart of mine
which looks best when it's broken
if you put your hand out you may find love
in these thorns which stole the space

when lips which don't belong to me
forget their rhythm
their words are laid bare
stripped of alternate interpretation

the skin I live in
the only home to shelter
these worries
like planets in a protective galaxy

inside this independence
when you're happy it's called solitude
and when you're sad it's loneliness
a space so familiar and yet
I'm afraid to enter

to realize I left my shadow
in the sunlight
every second my pillow denies
me sleep
sadness creeps further into the scene

a version of me which doesn't
deserve such devotion
a mask of filth I've worn too long
convincing the world there's nothing to see
convincing me it's a losing battle
when there was never a war to begin with
that these tears are permanent rain
when there isn't a cloud in the sky

just a dawn waiting to inspire the day
a simple future dancing to its own harmony

it's not the fever that bothers me
it's the fear of looking inside my heart
and finding nothing
like some bad joke you promised not to tell
it's the mirror who's afraid of the reflection

I'm not worried about this sickness
it'll be temporary like my love
running across the ocean with free arms
never thinking to look back
and realize there's a past walking behind
slowly dying with each step

the symptoms are bad but they could be worse
they could rip your skin open
and let the humility rush out
onto the floor around trembling feet
wishing they didn't have to stand
for any of this
never getting along with the cold ground

it's bad but one day it won't be
my lungs will welcome air
like a mother's embrace
all the nights awake and alone
in sleep deprived dreams
will feel like something that never happened
passing like a siren which screams down the street
echos lasting only a few seconds
but not like a girl who sometimes
looks back
and remembers
like an old story
she heard long ago
some fantasy
existing somewhere

this time she put her beer down
and found her hands
covered in disappointment
a cloud covering the edges of her heart
the spot where love could breathe awhile
now lost air filling unfulfilled lungs

the excess of wandering boys
cut her patience with experience
youth is a temporary friend
soon to leave like they did
forgetting to look back in regret

at the age of 25
doubt in the question of young or old
there's safety in being scared
or at least she wants there to be
for the present hour isn't working

the lack of beauty in the folds of her dress
delicately placed to provoke worry
and hide the tremblings of a naked body
finding the nearest couch
away from everything
accompanied by half empty drinks

there are two dollar bills
soaking in saltwater
unsure if their worth is still warranted

a conundrum which parallels my own
work which slips away like an old love
into the passage of fire
unable to see through the smoke

this smoke makes friends with uncertainty
clouding judgmental overtones
or hiding the weeping truth
of dangerous discoveries in my life
where open change closes the doors
leaving cracks to see all
I couldn't complete

where days being single
become years
and all that was planned
falls into alcoholic waste
savoring the love I could share
for no one should claim it
when it sits in the smoke
coated in insecure skin
questioning every second it exists