the autumn broods,
moody, full of leaf.
the sky sinks like
a silver ghost,
drinks its pools of
frost, its moments
full of dream.

perhaps i had it all backwards,
and we are not the more evolved spirits of animals, and animals are not the more evolved spirits of plants

perhaps we are trying to become that which a plant already is:
a converter of suffering into purity, of darkness into light

just as with each in-breath, the plant takes in my suffering
and on exhale, converts it into loving oxygen,
which we drink in hungrily, yet unknowingly,

and just as each spiraling ray of sun is synthesized into pure life energy,
relinquishing the need for consumption of another self,

perhaps we too need to become more like plants,
and not the other way around.

as aspiring plant-beings,
we too can breathe in all that is
and exhale all that is to become.

I have kissed boys

Girls

People in between

But lately I have been kissing bottles

Their lips are colder than yours

But slowly I have realized that the pounding headache when I wake is less hurtful than the shattering in my chest

Yet as these toxins rush through my veins

I can't help but miss the tracing of your fingers along my skin

Miss the numbness of the world when you lie with me

But when I wake I remember that a headache is treated with an aspirin

While heartache

Well if you have a cure for Heartache let me know

it all falls to ash
and spreads across my feet
painting my toes
each in different shades of grey

i lost count of all the minutes i wasted
daydreaming about boys
living some sort of played out fantasy in my head
about love
and a man
and a family

my life is a terrible joke
i don't find it funny,
but there's just no way
any of this can be real

this old heart of mine
is beating more slowly every day
shaving minutes off my hours
and slicing months off of my years

i'm not sure i can even find my face
underneath the tears

i only wish i didn't regret
so much of what i've done