I've done some nasty things
I've lost all my good
I search my soul for you

Can you forgive me?
My broken heart racing
I want us back
Please give the pleasure of loving you

take me to a swimming pool that has not been peed in
with no grass or dead wasps floating around my bare skin
one newly installed that hasn't corroded yet

take me to fresh snow that has never been walked in
let me feel the crunch beneath my feet as i step into fresh turf and smile
knowing that they are all my footprints
knowing that i am the only one who has ever touched this ****** powder

take me to a coffin that has never been opened
a faceless, nameless beauty
one that nobody else knows about

and i will treasure it
like it is my own
because i am an old nobody, too

I can't stop thinking about sad people, sitting in empty houses, looking at bright screens.
In the seventh grade there was a girl, she sat two rows to the right and three chairs back. She was loved, but you could tell she didn't know it. Her father was an addict, leaving marks from glass bottles on the window frames she used to climb out of. Her mother was lonely, and breaking every day. she may not have felt the love from her mother or her father, she shouldn't felt it from me. I loved that girl to pieces a million times over again. I wanted to put the pieces of her messy life back together, hoping someday she'd do the same for me. She became my best friend. I feel like i helped put the pieces back together, and i still don't think she knows how many pieces of mine she's picked up and put back together.

From where I lingered in a lull in march
outside the sugar-house one night for choice,
I called the fireman with a careful voice
And bade him leave the pan and stoke the arch:
‘O fireman, give the fire another stoke,
And send more sparks up chimney with the smoke.’
I thought a few might tangle, as they did,
Among bare maple boughs, and in the rare
Hill atmosphere not cease to glow,
And so be added to the moon up there.
The moon, though slight, was moon enough to show
On every tree a bucket with a lid,
And on black ground a bear-skin rug of snow.
The sparks made no attempt to be the moon.
They were content to figure in the trees
As Leo, Orion, and the Pleiades.
And that was what the boughs were full of soon.

To be what they want
Is to win a battle
To be who you are
Is to win a war

Flesh like an imagination,
Fur on fire lights the way
Through shrubby jungle puzzles.

Forest keeps eating the path.
My sanctimonious half,
Shaken from an ancient sleep.

Trauma swoons with swift row,
Inner, Present, Equaled.
Sear platforms of self through scenery.

No safety to harbor.
Age is wasted on the old,
Didn't know wisdom is ethereal.

Oblivious to the fact I
Outlived my inner circle.
Justify your justice,
My toys don't talk anymore.