Dearest Past,

        It's really strange and interesting to look back at where we used to be and then compare it to where we are now. Most of the times I constantly ask myself and tell myself, "Really!? What was I thinking?" Half of the time I wonder why I still remember the stuff that I put up for so long and the other half I spend wondering when I became smart enough to forget about you.

I also noticed that I tend to forget the things that used to mean a lot to me. Obviously it is because you don't mean jack squat to me anymore, but it is strange to know that something that used to be so familiar is not anymore. People that I used to know and be so close to are so distant that I can't even remember their names or faces.  Although I do remember the best more than the worst, I still remember the worst as detailed as ever. However, I finally realized that I can not change you and once I say goodbye to you there is no going back. It is time to let things go so I can finally look at you and compare you to the present and thank God for what I have now and what we don't have anymore. I've replaced the bad memories with better and more familiar ones. I've replaced the old with something new. I've replaced you with not only one but two; the present and future. I wish you the best of luck in other peoples lives and I promise I won't bring up the bad things; only the good.



                                                               ­                   Sincerely, Your dearest friend.

As you speak your dreams,

tongue dancing upon the name

of your future,

My heart beats to the rhythm of your words.

I want you to be like cracks in the wall
Splitting, terrifying, acknowledgments of age.
But full of character.
The kind of wrecked up building
Hipsters want to take photos of.

I want you to be a condemned factory
In some rundown New Jersey Industrial district.

I need you like the worn lines on some film reel.
Getting in the way of the best parts.

You could be a dress completely destroyed by cigarette burns
Or the stains on an important document.

You could be my anti-Christ to perfection.
And I’d crucify you with the best intention.

You’re like a car with old bullet holes,
Or that rug everybody is afraid to touch.

In the end you’re like some decrepit ruin of a vast civilization.
Old and broken.
But eternally majestic in my perception.

465

I heard a Fly buzz—when I died—
The Stillness in the Room
Was like the Stillness in the Air—
Between the Heaves of Storm—

The Eyes around—had wrung them dry—
And Breaths were gathering firm
For that last Onset—when the King
Be witnessed—in the Room—

I willed my Keepsakes—Signed away
What portion of me be
Assignable—and then it was
There interposed a Fly—

With Blue—uncertain stumbling Buzz—
Between the light—and me—
And then the Windows failed—and then
I could not see to see—