Oh poetry,
I'm drunk again talking to myself.
I wish that you were here to aid in this wallowing self pity.
I'm drunk, moving my mind in endless circles
Wondering how the earth could make me so dizzy.
I pour my soul into the people around me,
but they have no clue what to do with spirit.
Words grasp my every feeling, but there's no one around to hear it.
Oh poetry,
I wish you were here to tell my story with volume
in a way that moves the heart because I just can't seem to
I can't seem to move out of my head,
I try to lay down and sleep in my bed, drift somewhere else
and calm the unsaid
But life keeps me awake, pushing me so close I feel I could break.
Oh poetry,
Sleep for me.
Dream for me.
Please tell me that you're here for me.

He fell in my arms.
Not in love, but fast asleep.
I fell the former.

this girl I know
is always sick and
always wants to talk
about it to the point that
everybody else
is sick of her

she says her hormones
are a mess
she can’t lose weight
she’s under too
much pressure
yet she’d drink you
clean under the table

she has these
minor cancer scares
and is convinced
she’s bound to get it
she’s often returned
from the doctors
disappointed
to get the all clear

of course the swine flu
didn’t stand a chance
of passing her by
last I heard
she was holed up in bed
with a bottle of wine and 200 marlboro lights
broadcasting her
lastest ailment
via twitter