i think something
we always forget is that
other people
are not so much
other
as they are
people.

such little interaction i know
just little pleasantries
but you remembered
out of all the distractions
you remembered.
i could build you up in my head
like a build-a-bear
give you a soft demeanor
make you a dancer
make you a painter
make you a soft soul
with seven cats and an
incredibly high score on guitar hero
in my mind, you could become
literally anything
and it’s a little scary.
there’s almost a 0% chance
that you’ll be who i think you are
who i think you could be.
thinking about you is dangerous.
i guess i’ll do it anyway.

wake from the slumber
groggier and more hidden
than before i slept

i only ask one
thing. make sure it hurts before
you go.

have you ever tried to write poetry
when you’re not at all feeling poetic?
when life isn’t necessarily ugly
but it isn’t necessarily beautiful either?
when you could talk about
the sonder you try to feel
as the people sitting at tables around you
eat their food, talk on the phone, finish their homework, sip their coke
do whatever it is they do
when you could talk about how the
chill of this air reaches underneath
your goosebump skin
and draws out a shiver, a chatter
when you could capture the sounds
of the ice machine
and the clicking keyboard keys
and the rusty sliding of chairs on
a linoleum floor
when you could write about
whatever you **** well please
but it just doesn’t come to you?
have you ever been too tired
to feel tired?
god, i wish i were awake.
life is happening
and where am i?

In the courtroom
there are incoherent murmurs
whispers
"I wonder if it will change"
siblings
strangers to each other
bound by blindness
and gorgeous imperfections;
each an abstract reflection
of another.
Guilty.
Not guilty.
Human.
Human.

If you want to know
what is happening
to the world,
don't just watch
the news every night;
watch what happens
to yourself
after watching
the news
every night.