Insanity, I can't find my sanity,
                            in the wake of all this
                                       insanity.

This gun feels heavier
Than it does in my dreams,
The dreams that were constantly interrupted
By ***** of paper with familiar names I am called
By these people I can't show my face around them,

Especially during lunch time
Where I mold into my hunch again,
Don't you dare you call it a crutch again,
As I limp into the familiar stalls
Of this ****** bathroom
Where the **** I scream out platters on the stalls.
I keep praying to those walls
Until the choir next door
Starts balling to the basketball stars in the classrooms
Where they are taught
That everything is going to be okay

This blood feels sadder on my skin,
Each door I lock behind me
Doesn’t seem the muffle the police sirens
That echo through my memories of better times.

I plead once more to the walls
Please oh please!
Until the wrinkles on my knees
Were just as red as my white t shirt,
I don't want paper ***** to be thrown
At the Pinstripes I am forced to wear
Written on the crumbled paper
Would be my failures
That my mother would write to me.
And feed it under my jail cell
To help grow the fact that she failed

So here I am
Praying one more time
To this wall of old stuffed animals
Before the police kick the door in.
I’m praying to find happiness
Regardless of how many happy meals
I by for myself,
No matter how many full metal jackets
I pump out of this Glock
It does not cure me of my hollow heart.
I prayed and prayed
And no matter how many times I crossed my fingers
I could never escape to a better time.

My name was a
morning coffee secret you
keep between cupped hands.

There I lingered,
up until I went lukewarm
and then you poured me out

onto the ground upon discovering  
the bubbling champagne of her.

it's been five years since I've felt absolute love. I can remember how I was with that person. so free. I didn't even know what restraining or containing was with them. I wonder when that changed? When did I begin to care about holding back, hiding, trying rather than being? when did I worry more about what came out of my mouth rather than listening? conversations and topics flowed easily, now I stress in forcing them. my first love was real love. but I miss it. the feeling. the ability to give and not realize I'm giving. countless hours talking about everything, fewer held in silence but nonetheless never awkward. when did that change?
maybe nothing has. I merely need to find a person once more. a person I care more for than I care about how I'm being seen. someone that makes me forget about myself, but reminds me of me when I do. because they care as much about my well being as I'd care for theirs.
I like reminiscing.