She looks at him, full of regret and sorrow.
He stares back, his eyes expressing genuine sadness.
All of the pressure has taken over her.
Everything she wants, she shouldn't.
Everything needed for social survival, she doesn't want.

There is one in every corner of this building.
I just want to be alone.
Go find another one.
Dumb *******.

I'm so many things
But I want to be more
So much more important
Than an oxygen *****.

The air that I waste
The time that runs out
For I'm hogging the world
In an oxygen drought.

Self doubt,
Bottled up feelings,
Uncertainty.
What to do next?
Where to go now?
How?
But it's not a question,
It's the answer.
Do something.
Go somewhere.
There is a way,
There is always a way.
There is an answers,
There is always an answer.
And sometimes,
The answer is not knowing.

My love of poetry is too great
for Philosophy, physics to glue the skin under my toes
to the floor.
A waif, only dandelion fluff,
I tease the turbid puddles
of wearying intellect.
Life is too beautiful
to compartmentalize,
to classify,
to set unsurmountable borders
on the pleasure that only poets and hopeless romantics comprehend.
Disoriented sight/smell/taste/touch/hearing-
backwards rainbows and the upside-down
scent of oatmeal cookies,
the melancholy of a forever-stilled honey bee,
are more golden than yellow metal,
and certain
more knowledge than a heaping pile
of doctors/lawyers/senators/scientists.
reality's only denizens
are Dreamers.