Déjà vu
only exists
for those
whose eyesight
has amnesia

To finish anything in entirety requires a full circle- and goodbye is a picky eater. Good is the pieces of pie fully enjoyed already- don't forget the fingertips good. The ones licked crisp and clean from the plasticware every time. While bye remains the uneaten slices spoiling silence in the kitchen. Crumbs too stubborn to move along, to move anywhere at all. Notice these slices never once greeted each other on a dinner plate- and there is no place for distance during dessert.

2. Goodbye is invisible ink scribbled too quickly for certainty. Proper sendoffs deserve the type of visibility that billboards form. So if you have the audacity to send seven letters my way disguised as our final embrace- I will unwrap your formality, like 5am Christmas morning, and pretend I'm on the naughty list. Hidden messages lack a sense of transparency that leaves only second guessing and farewells should need no crystal *****.
Goodbyes are as good as guesswork- and we are not fortune tellers.

3. Goodbye implies loss or rejection, but well wishes are meant for times
when loss is undeniably absent. Wishing wells bathe separation with good intentions- each copper coin anointed an underwater masterpiece.
While goodbye addresses detachment with partial reflections, splitting waves too strict for clarity. So all I see are the ripples of me spread too thin, the pieces of me scattered in every direction. Goodbye wishes no one well.

4. Goodbye is simply one word. Goodbye is not naturally destructive. Goodbye is no vocal cord villain.
Words are neither inherently good nor bad because we ascribe their significance, but evidence suggests a one word farewell serves innocent ears unjust death sentences.

5. The moment you allow I love you to skydive from your tongue, the word goodbye steals the parachutes mid-launch causing fatal free fall to artificial grass your hands never actually planted. This land is lunar rock rare- desolate when day breaks.
Goodbye is not fertilizer for greener pastures- rather an open invitation for wildfire to reduce the cosmos to ashes.

6. Endings are inevitable and sometimes quite necessary. And I'm not suggesting we prolong foregone conclusions. But our parting words need not necessarily be regrettable. Goodbyes are often stressed in tragic spectacles only designed for Broadway stages and sometimes all that's needed
is a genuine platform to stand on to say something like-- I'll miss you or I'm not ready for this or I can't do this anymore.


7. Goodbye is not a last resort.
Last resorts lead to final destinations you never come home from and you were never home, you were never home for me, you were always goodbye. Goodbye was your one way ticket to paradise, the kingdom your words worshiped and call me a traitor if you must, but the paradox you fundamentally found comfort in is tyranny trapped in one breath.
And that's never been comforting enough for me to believe in, never been real enough for me to hold.
Goodbye is sweet sorrow- one hollow word that makes your smile hurt.
It's solid rain on sunny days, stolen hearts on lay away. It's two syllables that were forced to hold hands that were never ever friends to begin with.
Goodbye is an oxymoron- and it will never justify your warm hello.

You hit me like a thunder clap
                                         snap
                                 crackle
                              pop
                       ­ I don't wanna stop
                          don't wanna quit
                          can't wait one minute
                 We never had a choice
                                  we never had a chance
                              as we dance
                through this second glance
                                                 romance
                                          fancy that
                                I'm on my back
                        You attack
          we both see black
   black and blue
It's always been you
your warm rain upon my skin
                         You'll always win
                               I'll always grin
                   as your storm washes me away
                              to start again
                                     another day

on and on and on
so much space ruined
by simple human emotion.
we are destructive beings, after all.
nobody will care,
but also...nobody cares because I don't tell them.
I can't find my lover,
with the three, sharp and cold rings,
whose silver smile cut through me quicker
than your glance.
I feel unconnected
I can't do the actual damage,
so I fantasize about it,
dream about it,
trace it out on my skin with my fingers.
even now,
I can't break my promise.

unsurely, we could have
slept, still: all made
small slitted movements,
all ablaze
in serenade for
something like
life, hanging sterile, like
presheaved diamond litter,
across broken lines
through the dark.

we breathe.
we trek out motions,
taking step in each other's
shadow.

and i, caught, dividing
through the time either of us still
could sleep. well, i
can't sleep. i can't
wait it out. i can't
do this. didn't
you say how i'd
lie? well, sugar,
i can't lie.

You are why I think
Uncontrollably
About everything wrong
Apparently
Unable to stop
Even if I try.

You are why I love.

You are why everything is wrong
In every possible outcome
And why it always will be.

You are why I'm lonely.

You are why I sit in the dark
And talk to myself
Or is somebody there?
I guess I'm talking to you now.
What was your name?

"Hi, you can call me Bee"

You were the reason I could clear my head
You were the reason I got out of bed
You were the reason I went for pointless walks in the middle of no where
You were the reason I made it home
I would stop you from fighting
You stopped me from hanging with Bee
You let me forget my thoughts
You were my best friend for 2 months.

You're not here, and the bad influence is back.

The youth are scratching up their throats
with paper & tobacco smokes.

Pinpricking holes in the fleshy, lonely parts
of their abandoned souls.

Rolling nature into little papers and trying
to slow the pleasure.

Drowning their sorrows in sickly sweets borrowed
from their parents' liquor cabinets.

Candy pills and paper squares dissolving,
highlighting the bright, evolving.

We came of age, we trade in our dreams for smoke, bottles, powder, needles, hallucinations, vibrations and green.

We saw others crumble, dead or alive, it spit all of us out eventually.

For those who lived, it's sad to see our fallen brethren as we walk towards adult mediocrity.