It's 2am and she's not asleep
Planning for a life she knows she won't keep
Looking for stars while the sky cries rain,
She wants to let go, but she knows it's in vain.
It looks like she's given up on all of her dreams,
She's both happy and sad, the two extremes.
Picturing someone arriving at her door
A prince in dark armor, prepared for the war.
She gathers her weapons and looks to the sky
She'll fight a great battle, but she wants to die.
It's 3am now and the storm hasn't passed
She closes her eyes, finally, at last.
The last of her blood drips to the floor,
It's over now, her pain is no more.

The evening's back again
Right on track again,
Like every night before.

Darkness falls again
Demons call again,
I really can't take much more.

Time flies by again
Children cry again,
And my agony draws a crowd.

Silence fills again
Violence kills again,
Why is it all so loud?

Tomorrow breaks along the horizon
But its faraway, still
There’s time for the darkness to grow
But oh what light it holds.

It’s a wide world we live in
The stars in the sky
Painted with the permanence of impermanence
Blot out the unforgiving,
Unfeeling
Nature that holds them in place.

But they’re just projected fossils
On a screen that floats above our heads.
Their sparkle only a reminder of their struggle
To live until the sunlight fades again.

Tomorrow grows stronger
Waves break along the shore of my mind.
The ocean is vast,
But float long enough,
I’ve come to realize,
And you’ll always find land.

I used to only use the stars to navigate
The harsh light of the sun
Burning away the map they set out for me.

Now I grit my teeth and welcome it
It doesn’t burn as much anymore.

red sunset vibes radiate from the poster on the wall
a pile of crumpled papers rest around the tin garbage can in the corner
broken dreams lie dying in the dream catcher above the bed
a record plays softly from the table by the window
white flowers turned brown with time bend weeping in their plastic vase
a pile of half-read books sit on the night stand
forgotten memories stay silent in the journals under desk
and moonlight floods through the open window onto the dark wood of the floor

There aren't many days
Where at the end of the night
I lay in bed and smile
Reliving the highlights as they play out on the backs of my eyelids.
Today was one of those days.

dear teacher,
it's true I could've been studying all night for this test. however, is it not the reason that we are taking this so that we can form a future for ourselves? well yesterday I decided I wasn't going to live in the future, I wasn't going to live in the past, I was going to live in the present. fighting dragons in the woods that turned out just to be low lying branches like when I was a kid, and accepting awards for amazing performances in the shower like I was an adult. from my research, I've concluded that there is no present because the present is made from the stitches of the past and the prospects of the future, yet at the same time none of that.
so, no, I didn't study all night for your test. fighting dragons and accepting awards seems like a better use of my time anyways.

Don’t rise yet, sun
I was just getting to know the moon;
I still haven’t met all the stars.  
There is darkness all around me but the light that I can see is too important not to pay attention to
It’s the little light within the blackest night that holds the most importance
That’s so easily drowned out by your overpowering brilliance.
Some people need the light of the sun to show them their way.
I envy those people, who can look forward to their waking hours and see where the good lies.
I just have to hope that when the nighttime rolls around that the darkness doesn’t consume me
Before the light of the stars are able to show me where I’m going.

Tomorrow feels like yesterday
I don’t know what day it is anyway.
The mountains rise from the sea and are brought back down again
Stars explode as they crash into one another in a brilliant, dying display
But not in time like the time that I’ve seen, that I will ever know.
Ten years is ten days is ten hours is ten minutes is ten seconds,
Why can I feel it slipping all around me like it does?

The moon told me her story, but I am not at liberty to discuss
I wish that meant something to anyone but myself, and I’m sorry.
There are some things that all must learn individually,
Or not learn it at all.
I know you will rise soon, sun, and I know the moon must go
I say goodbye to the stars one by one. Even as they fade. Even as I slip away.  
It was all just a fever dream, a shout into the void
I’ll wake up and nothing will be different and everything will be the same and that’s saying the same thing but yet it’s saying something different entirely.
Nobody knows what I mean anymore, not even myself,
But the moon says she understands
And the stars just wink so I think that means they’re catching on.

Outside it's raining fire
Inside we're burning snow
The world seemed like a safe place once
Now I don't really know.

My people fall around me
Their blood the color of the sky
Crimson clouds dot the horizon
I have no more tears to cry.

The wind picks up it's forces
I look on to see them go
Skeletal carriages drawn by dead horses
And they wonder why they descend so slow.

I open my eyes and see it
In the field of red and green
She stands there cracked wide open
Our beautiful, dying queen.

I thought that I could fix this
Whatever this may be
But sweat and tears make oceans
And now we're drifting off to sea.

the days are long and exhausting
but they're a distraction I desperately need
until night falls and I'm left alone
laying, staring at the ceiling
and everything I was sure I pushed away
comes back strong and forceful
and all I can do is hold on and try not to look directly into the blast,
wait for it to be over and wallow in its wake
until it's shockwaves finally succeed in knocking me unconscious,
and the distractions begin again.
even the nightmares are welcome
because they, too, are an escape.
nothing seems as bad as the battles of my mindfield
during every waking moment.
so I welcome the monsters and make them my friend
if nothing but to eat my thoughts
before they destroy my mind.

I thought my love for you was an earthquake
Rupturing in my soul
But as soon as I send this thought into the
Oblivion of my mind
Stuff this thought into a
Bottle and send it down the river,
I expected that I’d surely find it again someday,
But for now,
I no longer can feel
The moving earth pounding my head
Every second of every day.

That was the point of this all, you know
I wanted the emotion gone
Couldn’t handle the aftershocks that would ripple
And threaten to undo the careful
Knots that I had tied
To hold up my shield I need to hide behind.
I didn’t realize, though,
That the river opens up to the ocean
And the bottle keeps moving through and through and through
Until the tether of the emotion to the words
Is severed, gone.

There is no more flowing magma underneath my surface
That threatens to bubble up and over,
And once I thought this was what I desired
When I sent my emotions out to sea
But now all I feel is cut in half,
Incomplete.
The rest of me can’t live without its life source
Which somehow got severed along with my ties to you.
I wish it didn’t have to be this way
But now I’m floating in space
No air to breathe
Hoping and wishing and waiting
For the nebulas to send me into oblivion
Or perhaps back home again.

Outside, the world is hurdling on
through space and time and everything else
While our people tear each other to ruins.
Inside, the walls come crumbling down
taking blood and bone along with it
While embers burn to ash in what's left of our minds.
The end of the world is such a concept
Because what's ending?
I can assure you one thing:
Nature existed far before humans arrived
and nature will continue to exist after.
Forest fires rage through countrysides and mountain ranges
But no time is wasted before new trees are growing out of the cinders.
With us, a forest fire rages through our being
and we drown as the flames burn us from inside
until it's too late
And there's nothing to show except a blackened shadow on the ground we once stood
Because we paved over any chance of rebirth when we stoked the fire and gave in.

The sky opens up
And the clouds of my mind rain down
Pour on the dreams of tomorrow
Until they're soggy, ruined things
Bleeding into one another until all that's left is a mess
A jumble of black ink.
Broken memories of a time before
Are swept into the flood
And the river of me flows rapidly
Until the sharp stones are worn smooth
And I'm left with little of what I once had.
Until my emotions build a raft
Of good times and bad
Of uncertain hope for the future
Void of fickle ink that can blotch
And written instead with permanent marker in its place.
Because the good times are now
But surely there are more to come
So I forge paddles out of thin webs of happiness
And begin to fight the current
To start moving back upstream.
And the webs weave into permanency
Until the future irons itself out
And the past replays over and over
And they both meet in the present
So a golden light shines on it all.
I can breathe without the fear of drowning at last.

Light shines against my closed eyelids
So I'm seeing red.
The darkness pretends it can't touch me here
In the light of day
While I lie awake
But there are places to hide
When the sun comes out
Down, down, down it goes
Burrows into my heart and runs through my veins
While I breathe in, out
In, out
Willing the daylight to take over once again
But all my angels have fallen out of the sky
And the music I once heard has gone silent.
Even the sun doesn't shine as often anymore
And the thunderstorms of my mind have spread to the rest of the world
Allowing the darkness more time to work
More time to brainwash me into thinking that its normal
That everything is absolutely fine
But there's one small bit of my mind the darkness hasn't figured out about yet,
Or maybe it has but it couldn't win the battle,
That has a light brighter than even the sun
And maybe that's my starting and ending point
Or perhaps its some divine spirit seeking refuge in my ravaged mind
But its the only thing keeping me from succumbing to the darkness
Its the only part that stays conscious while the rest is violated and mislead.
But lately that light has been dimming
And the ink stains blotching my fingers
Feel less like the blood I know they are.

Eyes close softly, breath slows quickly
It's like everything that mattered leads up to this except nothing matters
There's a tornado inside my already twisted head
I'm chasing tails and following trails except I'm out of my mind
Colors swirl and tree leaves sway, except I no longer can see
Laughter carries in the wind, except I no longer can hear
Numbers keep repeating themselves chaotically as I lie there still
Words are frantic, trying to send a thousand different messages at a time, and I can't even make out one
The clock ticks and its that sound that coils around
The branches of the tree and suffocates it
There's too many emotions, too many thoughts
A faulty child's toy, there's no off switch
This one gets thrown aside and deemed as "unsellable"
Somehow, though, it wound up caged here anyway
And now I'm forcing slumber to no avail
And praying for a flood to come and wash all these thoughts into oblivion.

it appears my infatuation hasn't passed.
your eyes are blue, so perfect, like the sea.
and in them there's a thousand stories
just waiting to be told.
you look at me with those sea blue eyes
and try to make it okay
but the truth is, you're not with me.
you're not here.
this was always just a dream.
tomorrow will come and i'll be forced to continue without you,
something i am not keen to do.
you promised me you'd be waiting for me after we finished this...
i really hope you keep your promise.
i've known enough loss to last a lifetime
i'm only afraid this lifetime is nearly ending.
but to save you, i'd do whatever it takes.
your blue eyes take me away,
i've decided to let the dream continue.
now kiss me, you fool,
and don't forget to keep your promise.

out of the corner of my eye I see a flash
but then it goes away
in front of me the ground is crumbling
but in a moment I know the rubble will become solid once more
I know nobody else can see it
that's why I don't freak out anymore.
if I didn't know any better, I'd think the world was dissolving like a dream
and in its place is the world I was meant for all along.
when the flashes get stronger sometimes I can hear voices
and I swear sometimes I think I hear my name among them.
last night when I was watching the stars, the sky broke apart and the pieces fell down like snow
if it wasn't the middle of August, I would have written it off to just that.
I opened my mouth to catch a flake on my tongue
but the smoky taste led me to believe maybe it wasn't snow but ash.
now I'm laying in bed
with words rushing through my head
and I can't turn it off.
I tune into the loudest thought and recognize it as some type of directions
I almost don't know what it's saying, but something about it seems somehow right.
I don't have time to elaborate because the flashes are fading
my thoughts are becoming foggy
this world is turning black all around me and there's nothing left in me that cares enough to paint back the colors.
and now even the black is going away and the lights
the lights are blinking out all around me
the lights were just right there
just right
                 there.

you stare straight ahead,
eyes swimming like the ocean they were modeled after.
the imperfections in your face were meticulously crafted by an expert artist
in an attempt to make you look more human
when in reality you are a god among men.
the thoughts clamoring for attention in your head
are drowned out by the ringing in your ears
but you smile and nod along to conversation,
as if you are holding on to every last word.
you walk home slowly, forcing yourself to put one foot over the other
sure, everyday, that you're going to open the door and not be able to go on.
at night you lay awake in bed
and listen to the door slamming shut.
poor child, sweet child.
she's only pretending to think you're asleep,
the reality is that she just doesn't really care.
your hands tremble the next morning
on your walk back to school
as you bring the cigarette up to your mouth.
there's nothing poetic in your sadness,
just the void of feeling.
you've stopped studying for your classes,
secretly you were hoping that she'd reprimand you for your failing grades,
desperate for anything to show she still cares.
but instead she takes one uninterested glance and leaves the room
"good. we can't afford to send you to college."
the next day you stop going to classes all together.
the friends you thought you had don't call, don't even seem to notice you're missing.
you've reconciled with this fact when you look yourself in the mirror while you bring your face to the bathroom sink
and inhale sharply.
you have new friends now, and they've shown you a great escape.
yesterday you came home,
pockets full of powder-filled plastic bags,
to find the thing you've been expecting your entire life.
a trail of blood stains the worn-out carpet
and in the middle lies your mother face down.
a gun lies close to her hand,
and you pick it up slowly.
you dial the police
but don't stick around to give the details.
resting the cool metal of the barrel against your temple
you don't look back
5... 4... 3... 2..

Where’s your heart at? They ask me
As though it’s not an ***** in my body
As though it’s not beating in my chest and pumping blood to my organs.
My heart can’t be followed
Because it doesn’t move without me
And my heart can’t be broken
Unless it is punctured by a foreign object.

I appreciate the metaphor, I do, I swear that I do
But sometimes metaphors get a little much
My brain is a metaphor
In the way that it thinks.
Do you see what I did there?
Metaphors run my life, run this world
But sometimes I want to shut it off.

Don’t ask me where my heart’s at
When you know that I’m broken and leaking on the floor
And yet somehow still standing firm and tall.
Don’t tell me to follow my heart
When you know that it’s my thoughts that are jumbled in a knotted mess,
Sans heart,
They’re in a different part of the body after all.

I’m tired of living my life in metaphor
At least for tonight
It’s just an excuse for me to hide behind
A way to add beauty to a desolate place
That otherwise would be of concern
And taken care of
And made permanently beautiful instead of metaphorical façade.

There’s a time for poetry
There’s a time for poetic language
There’s a time to follow your heart and see where it goes
To calm the dragon that is your mind
To walk the cobbled windy streets of your thoughts and ponder

But some days you just have to let it drop
And look at the bleak world around you, no makeup, no photoshop,
To remind you that things have to change.

The nebulas danced a twisted waltz, leaving a dusting of themselves behind after every step. White painted onto black, and then green, and purple, and all the colors of the rainbow into the sky, and the ballad wailed out its long notes as the song crescendoed into oblivion. Notes jumped up, adding brush strokes of stardust onto the azure of the absent canvas. A celestial battle was beginning, varnishing the open vault with beautifully broken carcasses and fingerprints forever to be seen. Each movement, every fractional breath, leaving a trail of stars and color and galaxies for worlds to gaze upon in wonder. Swords unsheathe and blood is finally drawn, dripping into elliptical formations, and hardening over stars. Asteroids are hurtled through the expanse in a way of symphony, in a way of ballet. The horrifying back and forth blending to something magical, creating an order from chaos, forming patterns in the dark. And suddenly the anthem comes to a ****** and stars are expanding and dissipating, leaving nothing in its place. And instead of new cruel masterpieces being added to what was once there, everything around gets pulled in, into the nothing until nothing becomes everything. The symphony swirls around in circles, adding bits of blackness between the blinding light, and soon the universe is following suit. As the closing notes ring out, the cosmos revolve and whirl and dance, they simply dance to the crestfallen fantasia as it cries out its call for help one final time.

soft patter on rooftops
while I stare at the wall
thoughts running miles through my head.
slow down I mutter, but there is no use.
it's 1am but I seem to think I can change my life
defeat the demons reeking havoc through my mind,
conquer enemies in shiny armour.
overall I just think of reasons why I'm a not so good person
or what I need to change.
who I want to die,
who I want to live.
maybe one day I'll rule a kingdom
or maybe one day I'll die alone.
nobody ever thought about the people who manage both.
terrifying thoughts,
but equally satisfying.
it's at this point in the night when I write novels without paper
create stories without ink
flowing masterpieces never to be told
never even to be remembered
except in a fleeting dream
a simple moment
and then it's
g
o
n
e.
almost like it never existed in the first place.
is that what's meant of all of this?
are we all geniuses until someone tells us otherwise and we believe them?
when does it all stop.
when does it slow down.
why won't it slow down.
I just want it to slow down.

The fog of forgotten memories
Blankets the cracking pavement
So nothing can be seen aside from yellow and white lines
and the bottoms of tires.
A slight drizzle begins to fall out of the clouds
But just as quickly as it started
the fog is receding
And the diluted colors of a vibrant city
pulse all around
Like a heartbeat from somewhere deep inside.
Muffled sounds of people come from somewhere,
come from everywhere.
Its almost as though its all a dream,
you can focus on one thing or nothing but not everything at once,
and everything seems too crazy to be real
But a pinch on the arm can be felt
And the dream doesn’t end.
Everything looks and sounds like its underwater
And the colors blend together until no colors exist at all.
The sounds get louder and everything is coming more into focus
And a symphony is playing
With the staccato of honking horns
And the shrill of constant chatter.
But its all hidden from the rest of the world,
the sensations fading as you cross the bridge away
And looking back, all that is seen is the fog and the road,
Making you wonder if you imagined it all in the first place.

When I close my eyes what I see are the mountain valleys
And trees covered with snow
All around me the only sign of civilization are the ski villages
And the air smells like fire in a chimney
With a hint of hot chocolate and waffles at every turn.
I feel myself secluded on the top of one of those mountains
In a cottage covered in snow
Breathing in the fresh mountain air
Cold but only enough that it’s the coziest feeling in the world to come inside to the warmth.
Nothing but inspiration flows in these winds up here
I am as weightless as the thin air this high
And as soft snow falls it consumes me
Until I start and end with the mountain and the sky.

But I blink, and suddenly warm tropical sun is hitting my bare shoulders
White sand resembling snow, but the resemblance stops there
Because these tropical waters are alight with colors other than white and brown and green.
The ocean waves match my hair
And my freckled skin is kissed by the sun in such a way that I swear I belong here forever.
There’s the taste of mojitos in my mouth
And the smell of a scuba mask covering my nose.
Under the water is another world,
One I have never felt so close to
With sharks and corals and fish that all seem to be in such perfect balance
There’s nothing else in the world that matters but the sea and the sun and the sky.

I’m disarmed for a second by the rush of loud noise I at first think are the crashing waves
But then the shrill of a car horn caries and I realize that my feet have shoes on them once again
And they’re touching asphalt.
I look up at the buildings all around me
And though the air isn’t as fresh here,
There’s something to be said about the pretzels in the air
And the car fumes
And the smell of the pavement after the rain.
There’s so much noise, but it beats in time with my heart
And the swell of it all alights my excitement.
There is no place I’d rather be, not in this moment.
My thoughts are as abundant and high-reaching as the buildings all around me
And there’s a world of possibilities that seem to have been awoken in me as I stepped into this city.

The roar of the cars comes to a halt
And all I can hear is the wind though the fields.
My mind, for the first time in a long time,
Has nothing left in it.
I lay here, surrounded by nothing but flat land
Dotted by small white houses
With broken down brown barns to their left,
And stare up at the rolling clouds in the sky.
I don’t know where I am or where I’ve come from
All I know is that one cloud looks like the head of a lion
And the one next to it like a fox chasing his tail.
The wind softly tugs at my hair,
But I’m not cold in the breeze,
And it seems to be a part of me as much as I am a part of this field as I lie here.

Day turns to night quickly, and I’m suddenly looking up at the splattering of the nebulas.
It’s incredible. I’ve never been so close, here on the mountaintop.
I swear that if I reach high enough, I’ll be able to grab one and put it in my pocket. I don’t know why I’m so afraid to try.
The soft waves break against the shore, and there’s something magnificent about the way the ocean reflects the sky
So two dazzling displays are visible,
Working together. One stands unmoving aside from the planes that shoot across it
But the other ripples and flows, ever-moving, never-stopping.
Then I look up and there’s a haze of lights
Some stars, some planes, some just windows from buildings,
But it’s the city that never sleeps
And the stars are brilliant whether artificial or natural,
I feel each one splattered across the insides of me.
I lay here in the field,
Awake but fast asleep
More stars than I’ll ever see in my life spread out before me
And I suddenly feel smaller than ever,
This mortality that I am faced with is hammered into me by the brightness and abundance of all the stars in the sky.
I wonder who I am again,
Wonder how I got myself here,
On this mountain,
On this beach,
In this city,
In this field,
But I cannot find the through-line,
Not in this maze of constellations
And so I stop questioning for just a moment
And instead close my eyes and let my heart decide which way it wants to be pulled tonight,
And the stars oblige.

tile covers the floor and the wall and the ceiling
it sends my head spinning.
glorious white has faded to decaying yellow
cracks and grime populate this darkness.
a damp chill settles in the air
only broken up by the occasional subway train
out of the vacuum of the tunnels.
fast food wrappers covered in lipstick stains tumble in the wake of passing crowds,
the only testament to the world up above.
it's quite possible to believe that
nothing exists
besides these miles of tunnels
and endless rows of splintered tiles.
from the depths within
demonic sounds terrorize
and with the red lights that draw ever closer
right on schedule,
it's not hard to believe the veil is thinner here
in this never-resting place
and an energy surge
or the blink of an eye
could turn these diluted colors
to black and red and white
with no way back up to the city streets you once thought you knew

the cracking concrete stairway practically reeks darkness
this is the entrance to the labyrinth.
step by step constantly downward until the sliver of sun that you always thought would be visible has finally disappeared
and left nothing but the blinking of the dim artificial light broken by time.
the warmth you surely felt outside has been leeched away
leaving a constant chill to raise the hairs on your arms
every time the ghost of a subway train emerges from the depths of the tunnels to all sides.
crude steel and fissured tiles paint the portrait of the lives that have passed through here
the tracks making no distinction between foreigner and local as they dole out their fates.
and every rushing train blurring the shadowy lights of the tunnel
reaffirms your suspicion that this is a vessel through a vortex in disguise as a breaking down train.
and as the doors slide open once the wheels lock and screech in agony until the momentum is stopped,
take caution
for the city you exited from into the subway
may not be the same you’ll enter here.

The gap between the platform and the subway car
seems to grow the closer you get to it
Until crossing it seems like the worst idea you could make
But you close your eyes and brave the void
Taking care not to thin about the tracks beneath
So alive in their snaking routes and tortured screeches.
The doors shut abruptly once you've sardined inside
And its all you can do to grab onto something, anything
Before the wheels begin to turn again
And you're lurched into some other time,
Some other place
As the tunnels decide what your fate will be.
And the doors will open again
As a ghost of a platform appears
But commuters be weary
For the tunnels and the tiles can be deceitful
So as you leave the decay
And the fractured tiles behind
Take caution
You might not notice it at first
You might not notice it at all
But the subway tunnels are unpredictable
And they enjoy making the rules
So the vortex you thought you imagined with the tunnel's lights speeding past the windows of the train
Might have actually transported you to some unknown city
To some other dimension
And there's no turning back.

I don’t know why I keep coming down here
Into the dark abyss of these tunnels.
It’s like something’s calling out to me
Guiding my feet without my permission
Like I’m just along for the ride.

Water drips down from the lower level of the 82nd street station—
Downtown B and C train.
I’m in a cave with dripping stalactites
But instead of awe and wonder
All I’m bracing myself for
Is absolute collapse.

The train roars in
Ba Dum Ba Dum Ba Dum
Slowly making its way to a stop
With a whine of its wheels locking into place
And a screech of the doors opening, protesting all the way.

I know I shouldn’t get inside
Should walk the twenty blocks
In sub-zero temperatures
Where at least the light will shine—
But something beckons me from the darkness.

As the train slowly begins to move
I see the red and blue lights waiting, watching, outside the window
The apparent heterochromia of the monster that lives and breathes and is these tunnels.

I’m suddenly sure that I’ll never return.

Its midnight.
The water laps against the docks
Moonlight shines in ripples across the calm harbor
Laughter and music drown out the song of the night.
Everything is right in the world.
A camera flash:
Time stops moving
Everyone is frozen in place and if the world were to end at this very moment
And this is the last scene before the credits roll
It wouldn't be such a bad ending
To an imperfect story.
But the flash lasts less than a blink
And time continues to move
Ticking in time with the cicadas in the trees.
Its not summer
But it could be
There's a warmth in the air
And a feeling of utter weightlessness
And both radiate from the small crowd
Of familiar people
Laughing alone in a dark, sleeping world
illuminated only by the moon and the stars
And the flickering dim streetlights
That line the night.
Nothing is ever perfect
But this scene
Of this night
In the park by the water
Feels distinctly like magic.
And we are alight.

I almost wish there was a time
When all of this would be thought to pass.
Years of waiting, working, wondering, until nothing.
Nothing appears to be all I know these days,
These days that seem never-ending.
Sunsets last for seconds,
But darkness stays until dawn,
And even then, the world is not awake yet.
These days it seems they never wake up.
Until we are falling in a spiral
The world coming up too fast
We plummet twenty feet below, until nothing.
Again, there is nothing, and it does not seem to make sense.
I suppose that’s the way it is now,
There is nothing gone and pass.
Sunlight tries to recur again,
Through the clouds we have come to know.
But even during the daytime, the sun cannot penetrate the dark.
Because these days, we wouldn’t be able to handle it if it did.
It seems to be comforting, all these clouds and all this nothing.
Because what can go wrong if there is nothing to go right.
Never mind the soft hum of the gnawing presence of what might have been,
Because these days its receded to barely a whisper.
Nothing was what I came here for
And nothing is which with I will leave.

Because these days its quite hard to tell the difference between what is nothing and what is something.

The whole wide world is pumped with meds.
Through our water and into our heads.
When we're not looking and when we don't care.
And we wonder why it seems unfair.
Our heads stand strong while our bodies lie still,
Nobody cares and nobody will.
We're all so sad and we don't know why,
Always looking for a way to die.
People come and places pass,
It's hard to see when all is moving so fast.
Money is the trophy but is it worth the price?
Why should we care about looking so nice?
Behind closed doors is where it all goes down
While all they do is look on and frown.
And pump the meds until we're numb.
How could we be this dumb?

It's almost as if my heart is building up and overflowing,
All these melancholy feelings growing stronger and not one thought can materialize
Because its like writing on your hand
Just as soon
As you write it,
It smears and
gets
washed
away.
Until all you are is a puddle of nostalgia and nothingness.
And you aren't really living at all.
Until nothing makes sense anymore
You're spinning in a circle when you think you're going straight
You're falling to the ground in your attempt to reach the stars
And anything you ever learned comes crashing down on top of you.
but you can finally see
that 2 + 2 doesn't always equal 4.
that after A doesn't always come B.
that on some days, the sun won't rise and the moon has to take its place.
you, for the first time,
realize
that
the
world
isn't
round.

morning light shines through the heavy canopy,
i know it because the ground is pink in places it should be brown
even though i can't actually see the light for myself.
i swear i heard your voice call out to me
from the other side of the clearing
but when i looked there was nothing but the trees and the wind.
today i woke up and your cologne was caught in my nose
i don't know how you do it,
how even the most physical, real things
are still able to haunt me
even though you're not here.

yesterday was a harder day than today
somehow i'm getting though it all, laughing, smiling
the tears are no longer because of you
i think that i've moved on,
or at least processed it all enough to try.
and yet i'll let my guard down for a moment
this life in the forest is nothing close to boring
but there are moments when all i have to do is sit and stare up into the leaves
wait for the light to poke it's way through in the slight way that it does
when i space out
and always come back to the way that your hands felt on my body
in every place i never wanted you to be able to reach
that look in your eyes
the things that you said.
it takes a moment for me to forge my way out again,
to focus back on the bark of the tree in front of me
instead of the whispers that transport me to the memories i don't want to see
and remind myself that they're only echos
and echos can't actually breathe.

There’s a biting cold in the air and it attacks my fingers,
But I put on gloves and it seems to calm itself down,
Lightly pecking at my exposed face, only, and turning it blush red.
I can feel the wind ripping at me, but I do not falter
I am the snow that whips around me,
The trees that stand before me
The mountain that my feet bore into
And I cannot be knocked down.

There’s a bright blue sky up above
And the puffy white clouds match the fresh snow on the ground.
There’s piles of it, everywhere,
And the wind blows it in drifts so the land has mountains on top of mountains
That will disappear in but a gust of wind.
The trees barely sway, even though the wind whips,
Even though we are on the top of a mountain where nature is most exposed
They stand tall, sway only when it suits them to sway
They’ve been here for too long to be moved by the whims of young winter breezes.

It smells like winter.
There’s no other way to describe it,
My entire nose slightly freezes, and with every breath the cold jets up higher
There’s tree bark and fresh snow and pine needles
But together all I see when I close my eyes is mountains, everywhere,
Covered in snow, feet of it, white as far as the eye can see.

There’s this silence to the world, too,
Even though the wind is screaming and the snow is blowing
Nature is muted in its brilliant sounds
And it somehow makes it more brilliant than ever.
I find that I am at peace in the way that I feel when I sit under the stars at night
Except maybe more-so, because there’s nothing ponderous about the snow today
It just exists, and is beautiful, and my heart swells with content
I’m not forced to try and understand the universe
Because the blue hue of the sky and the sun that reflects harshly on the white world all around me
Lets me pretend that there is nothing but me and the mountains in all the universe.

I want to sit here forever, I think
Even though I will encounter an icy death this way.
It doesn’t seem like such a bad way to go,
Responsibilities carried away by the wind and covered in mounds of snow,
My heart finally at rest from its constant heavy beating
Instead pounding in time with the rustle of the leaves.
My head is clear, that’s all I know
That’s all I ever have to know.
There is nothing else, nothing ever
I am light
So light I could fly
And something about the snow all around me
The forest of trees before me,
I think I might try.

it surprises me that all of this was once not thought to pass. with the rising of the tides and the hastening of the wind, and then all life seemed to disappear suddenly. and yet the warning signs were overlooked and everyone continued until the water levels rose slowly enough that they didn't even realize that they were drowning until it was too late.

Playing connect the dots with the city lights,
something you can only do from 20,000 feet in the sky

Sometimes
I look into the sky and make sure the stars are still there,
make sure this wasn't all a dream.
Funny how the ones that sparkle the most
aren't stars
at all.

There's something poetic in
Unspoken words,
And thoughts that are never to be heard.
For the mind knows not our mouths,
But the never ending cycle of deliberation against the hierarchy of a force unknown.

we spend all our lives searching for color that we don't realize all that exists is in black and white.
in thoughts and words
through tears and laughter
it's all facing ruins
empty, broken, torn down.
the Mayans once were living
they once ruled a kingdom far advanced for their time
and yet they still were wiped out.
what's meant for us, then, if we can't even see in color.
if everything was horrible, if we only knew loss, would it still seem as bad?
if we believe we're seeing color, but we only know black and white, do we actually trick ourselves into playing along?
maybe one day we'll release our souls into the sky,
fly up up up
and
a
   w
         a
              y
and realize
this entire time we weren't seeing color or black and white
we weren't feeling emotions or experiencing thrills
we weren't living.
maybe then we can start our lives.
it just takes a while until we accept it and go,
takes a while to come to terms with the fact we've been fed lies.
come to terms with the fact we have to go though this hell all over again, except this time it actually counts for something.
this time
it's called death.

A combination of faulty letters
Creating stumbly words of disproportion
In attempt to adequately portray the way I'm feeling
When the reality is
No number of malnourished thoughts
Can manifest into what can only be described as circumstantial emotions
On a blank canvas
Splattered in blood.
Because there comes a time
When my perturbation over this life overcomes the sentiment of warmth in this frigid wasteland we like to pretend is okay
And nobody looks back as they press on
To see me in my weakened state
Until my legs won't continue to proceed
And I'm obliged to stop
But I would have done it voluntarily because I can no longer remember what coerced me here to begin with.
As my eyes begin to close,
I await the familiar dream of tomorrow,
But it never comes.

There’s nothing but dark water in every direction
Reflecting the night sky
In all its brilliant display of power.
The thing is that you look at the stars
And admire their beauty,
You sit there and you wait and you hope to see a shooting star
So you can make a wish that will probably never come true
And even if it does
The stars didn’t have anything to do with it,
They’re just flaming ***** of lifeless rock
Without care for human life.
The universe,
In all its glory
Sprawled out up towards the heavens
Is too big for anything to ever matter
But I never realized that before.
It’s not something to ponder
The stars aren’t there so that some measly humans
On a tiny planet
In a galaxy in the middle of nowhere
Can try to make sense out of it.
There is nothing flowery
About the stars in the sky,
There is no meaning there
Except that there is no meaning anywhere.

Why is that so hard for me to get through my head, then
As I stare out in wonder
The smell of salt water filling my nose
The warm breeze of summer enveloping me
My mind staring into the sky and searching to find a place to call home among the stars.
But there’s nothing there,
There never will be anything there.
I know now that the light I see is expired light,
Hundreds, thousands, millions of years old.
My humanity just can’t stand up to that kind of time,
And so I can’t force it to try.

The grass, so high, so mighty
Yet so easily swayed.
The wind picks up force
But not everything is saved.
The eagle soars above us,
The ground trembles below.
Fires start abruptly
Their ashes white like snow.
Horses travel quickly
When there's nobody on their back.
But the demons still swept through
Not bothering to cover up their track.
The grass is quickly shortened
The wind can now be tamed.
The horses soon are broken
Never cared for, or named.
The eagle lands finally
Tired of putting up a fight.
The demons continue to push in
Under cover of the night.
Fires turn to embers,
Little light to glow.
To think, it seemed so safe once
Now there's nowhere left to go.

The mountains are alive with smokeless fire.
Yesterday I was running from it all,
I hopped in the car and threw my life out the window
And started to drive
Windows down
Music off
Nothing but the stars in the sky devoid of the moon
And the thoughts in my head that spread out like the road before me.

I didn’t have a destination in mind
When I drove to the harborfront.
Getting out of the car seemed monumental
The cold outside was a barrier I didn’t want to risk crossing
But I braced myself for the slaughter
And opened the door up anyway.

My foot touched the ground
And I winced
But nothing happened.
Each step forward forward forward
Brought me closer to the ocean.

I think it was snowing.
Something was swirling around me in the cold
Encompassing me
I couldn’t tell whether it was controlling me or I was controlling it
But it didn’t seem to matter.
My feet touched the sand
The sand was covered in white dust
The starts reflected on the calm water’s surface
But when I looked down, I didn’t see myself staring back.

Is emotion ponderous?
I suppose it is if I’m writing this,
If I can even ask the question.
Why do I feel so deeply
And have all these thoughts that wash my brain out like the tide
But never can find the right string of words
So that it will impact more people than just myself?

There are things that make sense to me
That don’t seem to make sense to anyone else.
In a fit of passion I see emotions in my brain
And write what I see
To the best of my fleeting ability
But what comes out is just a jumble of words
A couple of images
And not a through line of sense in it at all.

Maybe I should read more.
That’s what I always tell myself
Read more books with meaning
Instead of just the stuff that interests me.
Read more poetry that has words too big to follow
And morals so far buried
I need heavy machinery to dig it up.
Why can’t I write like that?
Why can’t I make words dance across the page
And up and around the minds of those that read it?

All you’ll ever be is someone who’s life has no meaning
Who can’t justify her place in this world
Because she chose the wrong thing to focus on.
There is no gift there
There is no talent
Whoever saw it there once was lying to you.

There’s too many ideas in your head
Too many grand feelings with emotions that can’t be put into words
And not enough concrete to solidify it
There’s no point in continuing.
They’ll just laugh, you know. They’ll read what you have to say and tune out their ears.
The writing is garbage
It’s terrible
It’s uninspired
It lacks the je ne sais quoi
The kind of thing that needs to be had and not taught
The kind of thing that you thought you had, once, but now don’t think so at all.

Nobody else thinks so either
So what are you going to do about it?
You’ve wasted too many hours of your life,
Written too many thousands of words of nonsense
Of pointless nothingness.
You’re past the tipping point.

Keep on writing, I guess,
That’s all you seem to keep doing.
Some people say that once you write enough garbage
Once you dig through enough dirt
You can find gold underneath.
I sure hope that’s what happens,
Because if not then I don’t know what to say to you
I don’t know where you’re gonna go.



Try to write yourself back home.

my mind was filled with darkness
a pit of nothing until nothing became everything.
no light to see,
a dark night
and the stars seemed to have left the sky after losing their celestial battle.
I had nowhere to go,
because I couldn't see around me.
but then I saw a light,
and I followed the light,
and it led me to you.
my dark sky now had sunlight
and I could open my eyes without fear.
the darkness inside of me was fading
as your light took root.
even on the days it seems the darkness is going to win,
your light never falters.
thank you for being my sunshine,
I'll try to bring the stars back for you.