you think
you are exempt
from being blamed
for the pain your words caused
because you think
the words that came out of your mouth
are drifting,
dissolving,
in the air
forever lost
to the elements

they're not

I wish I were dead.
I wouldn't cause any more troubles.
I wouldn't be a burden.
I wouldn't be missed.
Please take me away.
Into the darkness.
Take my life.
I don't care anymore.
Everything would be so much easier.
It's better this way.
Oh, how I wish I were dead.

Art is an extrovert.

She goes out clubbing on Saturday nights,
scotch in hand,
indecisiveness plaguing her mind,
dancing ‘til her feet are numb.

She rings the tune of a
possessed conductor.
White dress, black collar,
I know her face,
but not her name.

From the bar I watch
her obsidian silhouette expand
as her skin becomes rose petals,
and her hips conduct the music.

She looks like a drunken mess,
arms flailing, heels bending,
but to the peculiar mind
she paints
an alluring picture.

there are so many whats you'll encounter,
and limited whos you'll love.

the wheres are infinite,
while the hows are arbitrary.

but the whys
they are so **** hard to answer

why must i choke on the truth
why must i be like this
why why why?

why are you the way you are?

Do you ever want to go back to the days in which your biggest concern was if your shower would be the right temperature?

I had my first dream last night that you weren't in.
not even a minor character,
your ****** name wasn't even in the credits,
let alone plastered across the sky in flashing lights
like you want it to be.
my first reality that you didn't belong in,
and it was the most blissful peace that I can remember since we bathed in pools of cloud.

I heard the first song that didn't make me think of you yesterday.
the lyrics, for once, were just lyrics,
not an embodiment of you and the things you do.
guess what?
it was coldplay.
you always hated coldplay.

this morning, I basked in the sun and didn't picture you coated in gold light beside me.
I didn't look at the leaves adorning the trees and picture your face laughing beneath it.

I didn't trace the plate lines of my palm and imagine the earthquake we used to create when yours collided with mine.

I didn't eat new food that I wanted you to try and I didn't want to share the smallest details of my day with you.

you may have won this poem, loverboy,
but don't be too triumphant.
your victory won't last long.
it's the era of my new beginnings without you and I'm going to be just fine.

attraction:
a force by which things are pulled towards each other,
for example:
your eyes to pizza
my eyes to you

They always said the sky is the limit,
But they never said how to get there.

When the twists of life tried to keep me down,
i ran away.
When they came back for me,
i packed my bags and ran.
The bags slowed me down and yet, i couldn’t leave them behind.

During my escape i planned my journey and met more travelers.
Their bags seemed as heavy as mine, but our grips were adamant to the load.
Eventually i dared to fly.
Flying was easy. Up in the air, where gravity’s pull is weaker
made my bags lighter, and I soar higher.

Did i dare fly too high? Did i forget about the bags?
Oh mama, no one told me to be careful of flying too high.
Now i’m back to running,
running for one more breath of pure air.