the taste in my mouth is sour.
how typical of you to take over my senses
like this.
i envy the past, it deceives me so quickly.
driving into a foggy, caramelized darkness
until midnight.
i hear the wind, and feel the strands of my hair
once again
i would get the chills, the cold wind smelled like freedom.
it would billow out of the window,
and your hand would be entwined in mine.
i still feel the touch .
i didn't mind your thick skin.
but it played me so well.
it peels now,
i can still sense the old you.
and thats what makes me purse my lips.

i need to find my senses again
just like you need to find yourself.

and so here we are in pieces

theres something about this starving that
feels so appetizing
something about this apathy
this undecided feeling, something about this week
that seems so far from real

maybe it's the way i love the word haunting
the daunting snarl of crumbling
papers on homework after homework but somehow you're still failing
it's filling your lungs over and over with air
breathing in until you've lost feeling just to notice
you are still drowning

maybe it's the trust you lack in others
maybe it's in your inability to speak to anyone lest they ask first, waiting until the very last second before you complete something you hadn't done,
stressing over a list you've yet to make
feeling like your heart might burst with every bite you take

maybe it's friends, (or a lack-thereof) maybe it's you seeing them with so much love, maybe you've just become jealous or perhaps not enough?
it might be double texting on airplane mode, wishing you could have anything to say though you never really cared much about them anyway and...
and maybe they just hate your guts

but
maybe it's just you

maybe it's simply "another thing you've found to worry about"
maybe it's "because you're always on that phone"
maybe you've been the one in the wrong all along

because hey, those who stress so much about themselves but be selfish right? must be jealous. must be hard thinking of yourself so much that you've become a walking time bomb with a ticker that can never turn off.
must **** knowing nothing and thinking you know it all.
anxiety must be rough...
but maybe you're just not anxious enough?

oh mother
you are so beautiful.

oh mother,
you have endured so much pain.
you have braved an entire lifetime more than many.

oh mother,
your bones are strong,
and your smile resilient.
your hands may quiver but they are passionate with the hands of life.

oh mother,
your soul is pure and the elements are jealous.
if only the sunset could radiate your colors.
if only flowers could uphold your strength.
for they wish to
uphold you.

oh mother,
do not be weary, remember who you are.
for the leaves of green must return
to their original state
and remember who they were before the cold
even if it means becoming
bare.

oh mother,
even the sunflowers rest in the winter and
I know you cannot.
but the brevity in your existence,
the elegant movement of yourself is
needed.

oh mother,
lift yourself like the lords rein.
for you have carried crosses,
but only the strongest ones walk
alongside Him.

oh mother,
I love you.

if i stare at the empty wall
for any longer, i fear that i will
start to mimic its lifeless brevity.

simple. but heartbroken in its execution.
refined, but lonely.

i can hear the water drip
drop
from my sink.
if i listen any longer i fear that
i will start to mimic its monotone nature

forgotten in its own space.
but embracing its own flaws.

i fear.

i have spoken
to the ghost in which
resides within the depths of
me

for it resonates in my heart
and lives within
the ache of my chest
       it haunts my home
  &
       my body hurts
it crawls like the spider
spindling through my veins
deforming the vessels that once
so beautifully sculpted me
nobody said you weren't beautiful
for the sunflower that grows,
nay,
      thrives
even though i hadnt tended to it
lives on without me but

maybe it was the ghost

because
i have spoken to it ,
for it dictates the lack of
productivity within me  
      (they had mentioned that the
economy was weak)
however,
everyone told me that she was beautiful
but even the arc de triomphe
is flawed.
i wanted to believe otherwise but

maybe it was the ghost

who are you?
because i had heard that the ***** dishes
in
     my sink
weren't going to get washed unless i found
out who you were
you blasted old thing
      rotting away
                   at my soul



i bet you had
heard otherwise but

maybe it was the ghost

i visit the lake at night.
darkness of the hour engulfs me &  casts shadows upon
the painful silence.
invisible waves
                   crashing  
is unsettling yet
welcoming


                                       home.

an addictive aspect lives within me as i stand
willingly, accepting the change of scenery that i
inevitably
experienced  three hours before.
what had occurred in those three hours was painful
the innocence of daylight
laughing lovers, seagulls
they are gone now
but i stand willingly
                    accepting


                                      my mother.

calls me to come back
she is worried.
but i stand
                  willingly