Somewhere there is a nurse putting clean sheets on what was once someone's death bed. Somewhere there is a police officer laying awake at two in the morning contemplating breaking his thumbs so he won't have to pull another trigger. Somewhere there is a body bag taking the shape of a person. Somewhere a warden has accidentally called a prisoner by their first name. Somewhere there is a man getting ready to pay for his glass of whiskey, his '1 year' AA token falls out of his wallet onto the bar counter. Somewhere the glass is completely empty, somewhere it's overflowing. Somewhere a therapist sitting in an empty session reading the local newspaper's obituary section wondering what she could've done. Somewhere a bullet has fallen in love with a heart, giving a whole new meaning to the 'kiss of death'. Somewhere the girl that never speaks is raising her hand but immediately putting it back down after the sound of her classmates' laughter bounces back and forth from the back of her mind to the front. Somewhere the silence at the dinner table is making a dent in a child's suit of armor. Somewhere a 70 year old man starts skipping instead of walking, he stops taking his medication. Somewhere there is a mother too drunk to sign her daughter's permission slip. Somewhere a man has stolen all of the flowers from a grave, so he can somehow feel as though he's  being missed. Somewhere a child is asked what she wants to be when she grows up, she realizes ''myself'' isn't a good enough answer. Somewhere a mirror has been mistaken for a stranger. Somewhere someone is being loved by another person the only way they know how to love; whether it's through kisses, bruises, sleeping too closely to the other, or fifteen missed calls. Somewhere a man is falling in love with the automated voice inside of a voice mail because at least she will listen to him. Somewhere a 911 operator is walking into her house, hearing screams that aren't actually there. Somewhere these short stories are being broadcasted on the news,  printed in the paper, whispered to a friend, or rotting in the back of someone's head. Somewhere I am whispering all of these things to a silent room full of people, none of them look up.

he stands tall,
you get on your knees
& he shoves his gun barrel
between your lips,
he presses it to the
back of your throat &
asks you to look him
in the eyes, says not to
flinch when he pulls
the trigger or even try
to think of a last word
that doesn't end with
the final syllable of his
name. the fingers on his
left hand slide from the
front of your throat to
the back all in one gentle
motion, like this has
happened before. this
is a normal friday night,
this is the place where
all girls who **** like
they're trying to turn
modern architecture into
ruins go to die.

sometimes you're like homework
so confusing
and i just stare at you
absent-mindedly
hating you
yet you're important to me
it's so hard to finish you
and i lose inspiration every now and then
but when i get high as my grades
i come running back to you

i can't wait to graduate from school
get rid of this infatuation
we would be adults by then
and hopefully this mess will be sorted out

There was a time when I would've done
Just about anything you asked
But I'm slowly getting older now
And I'm slowly learning from the past
Not all beautiful girls are saints
Not that you were either after all
I'd like to say that disappoints me
But it's been years and I knew all along

Dear mother, father, brothers, and friends,
What is happiness, but a trend?
I never found it, but I did crave it.

I spent day and night crying over a lost love,
A lost chance, a forgotten friend, a speck of dust.
Everywhere I looked, I saw the beauty I couldn't find in me.
And it pained me so. It pained me quite so.

A wonderful world ruined by a broken soul
Is not such a wonderful world, is it?
I could not stand ruining other people's happiness,
When I knew I would never find it.

Once, a friend told me that just like love,
Happiness finds you.
But I guess the line was long enough already,
And all the operators were occupied.

I shall join all the forgotten souls,
All the dead ones somebody used to love or hate.
In happiness, in love, in bliss, in joy, in death.
Goodnight, and joy be with you all.

Perhaps the earth is floating,
I do not know.
Perhaps the stars are little paper cutups
made by some giant scissors,
I do not know.
Perhaps the moon is a frozen tear,
I do not know.
Perhaps God is only a deep voice
heard by the deaf,
I do not know.

Perhaps I am no one.
True, I have a body
and I cannot escape from it.
I would like to fly out of my head,
but that is out of the question.
It is written on the tablet of destiny
that I am stuck here in this human form.
That being the case
I would like to call attention to my problem.

There is an animal inside me,
clutiching fast to my heart,
a huge carb.
The doctors of Boston
have thrown up their hands.
They have tried scalpels,
needles, poison gasses adn the like.
The crab remains.
It is a great weight.
I try to forget it, go about my business,
cook the broccoli, open the shut books,
brush my teeth and tie my shoes.
I have tried prayer
but as I pray the crab grips harder
and the pain enlarges.

I had a dream once,
perhaps it was a dream,
that the crab was my ignorance of God.
But who am I to believe in dreams?