When I lay in bed at night
I see your face
floating in the light-less air of my sleeplessness,
When I’m laying in the grass
Staring at the sky
I see your eyes in the clouds,
When I’m walking down the street
I see strangers
that look like you,
& At the setting of the sun
I see your figure
in the trailing shadows.
Always.
Slipping.
Through.
My.
Fingers.
Let me grasp this, this entity you are.
Because you’re more than human,
or you’re at least part supernova
or a quarter stardust
or something.

*** is cool, but have you ever had garlic bread?

it would never have worked out anyway
we're both in a 'love'
and by love i mean a class tank
one that you put yourself in and can see out yet touching is prohibited
strictly prohibited
as in don't feed the animals
but one night we were fed
fed with each other because our tanks were occupied with only one
and one can get so lonely
was stepping out of the tank so terrible if it was saving us?
we hardly even touched and we both ended up happy
almost
somehow we're both sad
that nothing ever happened, that the kiss so often described
yearned for late in the night
stayed like sunbeams between our eyes
and when our eyes met it was like magic
like electricity
it was more than lightning, it was thunder
because thunder rumbles in the distance and never seems to come close enough
and to think in that one sweet word
the time you took my arm and called me honey
as if we strolled along the beach at dusk
it felt like that
those hours when you watch the sun rise and the world is soft and new
like waking up to snow
it was almost like being loved
almost
and the sad part comes next
the part where i get mad
not because you chose her but because you were afraid
afraid to say '**** the consequences' and afraid to be bold
you aren't afraid of me but of the world
i could have helped you but no
and i know you have thought about it
it wasn't a bird that flew in and out your cage
drunken me made sure to clarify
and now here we are at the end
the end that keeps going and going until you are simply a high school memory that i call drama or emotions
until then you won't leave me
you'll stay in the back of my consciousness
you'll be the one I'm attached to with an invisible rope
always waiting and seeing and hesitating to chase after
yet somehow we are always following each other
flashing lights on a map always equidistant apart
and our time will stay between us
always you will be my kryptonite
and always i will be your mysterious girl...
yours.

she's a wild unconventional girl
her hair flies about her in wisps
she seems to be the one with bare feet everywhere
her friends call her a mystery and a tease
but not in the alluring curl-of-a-finger sort of way
in the way that she is deep
deep as her eyes are blue like the ocean
eyes that are so old, they tell stories of pain
buried beneath layers no one will ever see
including this femme fatale herself
she attracts those with the purest hearts
she doesn't even corrupt them, just makes them think too much
she's the other woman who is as beautiful as her photographs
she throws her head back when she laughs
she is familiar to everybody and yet always seems untouchable
if you touch her you are brave or a fool
she will always be that one
the one that got away but also you got away from

the thoughts of a generation
lost in translation
vague thoughts and notions
kids just going through the motions
looking for no real kicks
just a temporary fix
some empty experience that will make you tick
you shed the weight of your mind like a brick
wishing that one good moment would freeze
forgetting the therapy given by trees
spending your life living off screens
dissatisfaction is carried by the breeze
nothing you say makes any real sense
it's not poetry, it makes us wince
we who seek an intellectual rinse
your words are worth no Dicken's pence
your generation has fallen out of sync
the world forgetting how to think
driving the old souls to drink
before we've even hit the brink
please don't let your brains get away
learn to appreciate the thoughtful days
appreciate the times when your heart chooses to stay
in that stimulating place; the intellectual fray

the daggers spoken and aimed with eyes
such cruel intent, such wicked lies
never more will i fail to be
what those words have done to me
if only they knew the scars they left
stealing sanity is such wicked theft
while on the ground i lie beaten and hot
defeat shrouds my every thought
when will it end, this perilous night?
i grow weary of the daily fight
for in the morning when i wake
i have 24 hours in which to fake
a smile and tolerance of formality
to questions which seek no actuality
'sticks and stones may break my bones'
can only be said in sarcastic tones
while purple moons lie under my eyes
from cruel intent and wicked lies