you are the 3 a.m. ghost
that wakes me from my
deep slumber.
you haunt me in the most
beautiful way possible
and i just can't get enough.
your scent moves swiftly towards,
i hide just to deny the fact that
i am completely drawn to it.
give me your hand before i cower
back to my safe place
because life is scary at times
and you are the only one that
makes me feel some days are
worth living.


i can finally breath,

                *i can finally thrive.

i remember when i was young
and would connect the freckles
on my mother's leg like it was
a game in one of those silly children's books.
thing's aren't like that anymore...

"why must everything change?"

i'm just a withered flower dying to
know what it's like to finally feel alive.
i want to be home.
my yearn for a placeholder.
this town swallows me whole, willingly.
shocked or overwhelmed.
i bustle underneath my bed only to find childhood memories,
but emerge to something more wishful.
home is but a variable.

i'm left to choose.

i'm found guilted by only the
misconception that maybe life
will get easier. i find myself
alone late at night even when
surrounded by the people that
should make me feel worth, but
i only seem to find melancholy.
it's easy to let yourself be sad.
it's not easy to get yourself
out of that same sadness.
i whisper goodnight to the people
i love and say goodbye just in case.

even if they don't hear it, at least
somewhere off in the darkness
where my thoughts wander off,
maybe, just maybe, someone will hear.

short breaths squeezing between
your slightly parted lips unknowingly
harmonize with my nervous heart
and the ticking of the
clock in the hallway.

a dusty book left on a shelf
only to be forgotten is the only
thing i can compare myself to.
how do you find happiness
when the only thing you find
yourself surrounded by is just
a collection of the saddest novels.
i'm the last dead flower in a
once vibrant garden,
will i ever be watered?

i'm wilted, unwanted and have
not a single feeling of worth.
what's my purpose, i'm bleak,
bleary eyed and left to decay.
the ending to this story has yet
to be finished, but for now
i remain bookmarked waiting
for her to open me once more.

*i want to be your favorite book, i want
to be the story you won't forget

mental photographs are
flooding my head, i must
burn away every image of you.
when will i strike this match so i can move on.
we both know i'm not that strong.
i remember when the only
worry i had was missing the bus and making sure i was in school
before the bell had rung.
things have changed, they're
continuing to change along
with the seasons.
lonely nights, lonely days, they're
all the same anymore.
help me escape this nightmare,
i can't do it alone.

goodnight.

you said you wouldn't hurt me,
but your words left bruises.

i see her stare out of the
corner of these bleary eyes.
i wonder what she is looking at.
"why is she staring in such a
perpetual manner?" i ask myself.
she makes me feel as if i'm
a starry night...like she's waiting for
something extraordinary to happen.
i blush
no one has ever looked at me the
way she does, maybe i've always been afraid to let people do so.
my cadaverous body goes cold
only to be warmed by the endearing touch of her hand.

and in that moment i knew that i
wanted to spend an eternity with her,
because for once...

i knew i was going to be okay.

someone once asked
me to describe
home and i was
so close to saying
your name, but
instead i refrained
from saying anything
at all and stayed quiet.
people expect me to say
a ******* place,
but the only place i've
ever had a certainty of
home was in your two arms.

i'm stuck, i'm scared, i have
no clue where i can turn.
my last bit of hope packed their
things and left a long time ago.
i count the days til i'll see them
again, but they left without a goodbye.
i am archaic ruins trying to fabricate
myself back to the way i used to be,
but i'm missing too many pieces to do so.
i'm left to erode and it seems
that's the only coice i even have left.

the pine needles brush against my
skin too big for these bones.
what is it like to feel comfortable,
why do i feel anything but normal always?
i want to feel as if i'm the top of these
trees, something bigger than myself.
i flick my cigarette like it's a habit i cannot break to reassure i'm still alive.
the smoke rises higher and higher, but
not high enough to be noticed.
i want to be seen behind closed curtains,
am i really even there?
for that i lay and rest these weary eyes
until i'm nothing,
just another plane lost on radar buried
underneath a thick snowy blanket.

remember me not, but don't forget me.

sincerely yours,

you can only run for so long
until you find that no matter
how far you get, the demon
that haunts you will always
be sewn to you like your shadow.
i need a piece of hope,
something, just something reassuring me
i'm not as crazy as i think.
maybe the wind has been
whispering to me this whole time.
i am just a leaf that has fallen,
but i promise as always
i will he back in time for spring.
until then i will become comfortable
with disappearing for the winter,
and who knows, maybe when the snow melts and the eerie chills of this brisk season are exiled, i will return as something more beautiful than any other leaf...

because that leaf will be me.

she resembled a graveyard
her body cemetaries
her eyes six feet too deep.
she claims she's not dead.
she mutters whispers barely audible
"i am not the corpse,
i am not the water that will drown you,
i am the noose tied too tight,
i am the trigger that is pulled,
the bottle of pills swallowed, the overdose.
she acts as if it's something to be proud of
something to be admired.
my hands too cold to be felt,
she is the thought that always crosses
the mind of a sad boy.
i am simply a skeleton with skin too big
for these weary bones.
i am the coffin and nothing more
than the dirt used to bury it.
the hourglass is coming to it's final stretch.
is this what it feels like to be alive?

it's impossible to be alive when you're already

                         dead.

sorry for smelling like
cigarette smoke and staring
at you all the time and
never being able to smile.
sorry i'm always sad and
for having a shaky voice
when you tell me beautiful words
that weren't made for
someone like me.

the star in the sky
that will guide me home.
the flicker of light i've been waiting for to make this journey through darkness less treacherous.
finally a shard of hope i've been awaiting for far too long.  
i'm trying to engrave myself
smiling alongside the four of you.
it's nothing compared to what it would be like being there.
there i would be home
and i'd feel warm.
it'd rid me of this emptiness,
this heart would finally feel whole again.

maybe then i would feel...

                                                  *complete

i'm dying on the inside.
the ghost that follows can't seem
to neglect even a single step.
the ground i've built for myself
isn't strong enough,
i'm beginning to fall.
my demons are sewn to my shoulder,
constantly whispering (give up)
the thought flurries
throughout my head.
the future is bleak, dark like my past.
i don't know,

            I JUST DON'T KNOW!

this cannot be living,
i'm already dead to myself.
i ran out of the last little  
bit of hope i had invested...
that light went out a long time ago.

the only thing
i find myself comfortable with,
are the long lonely bus rides.
i find myself memorizing things
i could care less about,
but i just can't stop myself from letting
these eyes wander and take in surroundings
that are no longer new to me.
(i close my eyes)
the same familiar faces come through
the automatic door.
workers, children, or that grumpy old man
who forgets where he's headed,
never the person i'm hoping for.
the only thing keeping me from given up,
is the thought of you on the other
end of this map waiting for me.
i just hope i'm not too late.

i chose to be inebriated by you
and no antidote can recover me anymore,
so i lay here prone,
overthinking about you.
your words, they penetrated me.
internally and externally, so smile
with happiness so the purpose
of your words can exist on me.
as i close my eyes to go to lay dormant
i can mentally see images of you
as if they are embedded
to the interior of my eyelids.
promise me you will stay.

i am the fine print
                
          behind every choice

you will

           make

i just want to die.
the bullet pressing
against my head,
the pills at the tip of
my tongue, blades scratching
against my skin, tearing
inside of me apart.
in a second the silent pin drops
like the delicate dead body
against the window ledge
as he lands, the blood pools
and spills from all directions
and soon public tears dilute the
crimson blood creating a river.

i left myself alone and stranded
without a map or the slightest
clue on how to get out of this mess.
i hate myself for causing you so much agony.
i find myself lying wide awake at night,
being eaten alive by the thought of
how much pain i caused you.
i wish something as simple as the rain
could mend that broken heart of yours,
but i promise i will prove myself, with each
stitch i sew, slowly fabricating each
scattered piece of heart until
you can finally feel whole again.
i am beginning to realize that home
is where the heart is, and that place
is back with you.
this lost boy is ready to come home.

                                 *i'm sorry

everyone has dark cellars
scattered within their body,
vanishing, pulling down planets
and cobwebs from the forgotten
corners of the room.
please enter my confetti filled castle
and slip elegantly on the rain soaked floor.
laugh at the paper airplanes we used to
make as kids that barely flew straight and
how every grandpa seems angry when they type.
nothing is important unless you allow it to be.
i'll buy a needle and thread and stitch together my words into
the warmest blanket for you to sleep under,
but falling asleep seems like a waste of time, and
we will probably get complaints about that.

far from asleep, anxiously waiting
for the sun to peel away
the husk of the moon so
i know that i survived another
long lonely night.
nowhere feels like home anymore.
i'm stuck in the shadows of my
own thoughts, i am being consumed
by the darkness.
the authenticity of my escape
begins to wear thin and is
beginning to seal shut,
            
               I RUN FOR IT, BUT I'M NOT FAST ENOUGH.

hands covered in white paint,
a paint brush is in my hand.

instead of leaving to be set free from these shadows that haunt me,
i stayed to create something i could have had.

*i am my own worst enemy

i suffer from
that kind of
sadness that only
creeps in the
darkness of night,
forcing tears out
of my eyes.

                      i suffer from
                      that kind of
                      sadness that swings
                      like a pendulum
                      in your ribcage
                      for days, destroying
                      every heart vessel,
                      that soul-blackening
                      sadness.

i gazed upon the fields
of deceased memories
and i found
black and white photos
of how things used to be

i cut away
from all those things
i cut away
   from everyone
leaving myself stranded

i lost every connection i once had

and somehow
beyond the disconnection
   i found myself
     comforted
       by the company
         of my own

*and that's how it's always been

i am a withered tree
as i wake up half heartedly
"good morning"
rings throughout a desolate room
while clinging to the thought
that misfortune goes up and down
like those graphs we used to draw
and the persistent side of me
is surely convinced
that i'm running trails
to something much brighter

it is a nice feeling of tragedy
when i let the bathwater
gently slide into place
and underneath the door
through the threshold
blue wisps from the television
keeps your face lit up
throughout the course of the night
i hear birds and those sounds they make
not just in the early morning
but always
leaving spots translucent beside me
every noise is subtle and
sinister
staring at the dark corners
cadaverous
forgetting only means that you’re
making room for something new

you sought, you pondered through ideas, thoughts
of life and death
you scribbled them out
with harsh lines and heavy ink
you began to see the big picture
and your eyes of realization
should have been of those
in movies
with a loud applause

i'm sorry that i want to die sometimes
because life is beautiful and i realize that
did you know
i wrote a poem about our fingers intertwined
before we've even met
well now
the only things that rest in my hand
are made of fleeting self destruction
while my vessels sleep in silence
quick
break any chandelier you might see
because your bones are similar to art
tired glass friend
we both lay sharp and deadly
on the dark wooden floor
so it only makes sense
if you cancel your plans

i am like a
flower and you
are like the rain.
you leave me
drenched and
wilted, but i
cannot live
without you.

please stay

we hate ourselves equally
but we love each other
it works out quite nicely.
my ground level confidence
and harsh insecurity
melt together so perfectly
so you sweep them up
like broken glass in a desolate kitchen.
i’ve built a wall around myself
but it’s been promptly torn down
villagers storm in like the shore
you’ve finally caught me.

goodbyes are even harder
when you don't know when
you will make your return.
saying farewell to the one
you love with nothing more
than just your skin as a carry on,
leaving all your possessions
in a room that will soon be
forgotten just like me. a room
that will become inhabited with
dust bunnies and broken fragments
of the past that we promised
we would never forget.

i am a flower and you are the sun
i need you so much more
than you need me.
don't leave me in the dark.

you're a drug
i'm so addicted
you're so ******* bad for me
but we both know
i'll never leave
we both know
i'll give anything for another hit
another kiss
another hand in mine
another moment where our eyes look
glazed over in satisfaction
so ******* high
god that sounds so good
*relapse

as a child
i used to carve gravestones
with each narrow detail
etched carefully in the middle
however gradually
those sullen rocks crumble
and rearrange
beckoning my arrival
so they can be slowly pieced together
yet to my dismay
they have aimlessly sunken
leaving me no choice
but to dig.

it is late
i spill boiling water on these soft hands
because i need to feel something
hardly on purpose
but i want to write courageous words
bigger than myself
only to tear them apart
and scatter the pieces
in a nearby storm drain

your self hatred is so routine to you, but so astonishing to me.
i hope one day you realize that we all see through different eyes.
well, i'm clearly so shy.
but i won't hesitate to throw all my thoughts into a cloudy pool.
even the most worn down gamblers in vegas would never bet on this.
i feel serrated daggers plunge into my torso.
just from the quickest glimpse.
you are the most perfect creation i've ever encountered.

i'll put stamps on my body
and sit near the mailbox
but nobody will ever read
anything i've carelessly etched
underneath my skin
if you say a certain set of words
over and over
it begins to sound more powerful
and with each resounding echo
maybe you will actually believe me
i don't care about anything at all
i don't care about anything at all
*i don't care about anything at all

i am an illumination,
a constant flicker of light
my thoughts burn like candles
and wax drips down my weary face
i am uncertain of what expression
will cause panic in those nearby
stare at me
i need to be noticed
but i look away because
i don't want to be seen
such a tiresome game
i will never get what i want
and i am losing the patience
to keep trying to trace my fingers
around something that can't be held

my eyelids feel as if they are being pulled down,
there is a constant noise that comes from
below my floorboards like a hollow idea and it's screaming to be fed,
i hear it every hour or so,
now you're falling down the stairs
and i watch you beautifully pirouette before
i put my hands out to catch you.
why do i feel so guilty for indulgence when i am alive only this one time?
i am moving and the dark red trees on the mountain look transparent
and they are in the shape of a maple leaf. i never know what i am seeing
but i am sure that
somebody needs me. how can anyone love me
when i'm not even completely there?
i am out of my mind but occasionally i will dawdle back in
and feel the invisible edges. it must be nice.

i live for the moments
that you clasp my hands
tight like you're worried
i might float away.
the times your lips can't
contain your love when
you're close to mine.
the ways you find to hold
me when i'm too far
away to be held.
the things you do to
remind me that your heart
is my home.
the places we will soon
declare as ours like our
interlocked fingers are explorers.
i'm alive with you.

i can see it clearly.
us two, on the sail
because the world
is far too easy
to get lost in
(just one more wave).

we sit in the same
color palette and
sell riddles like
venetians. and
as promised
i'll show you my world
but i'm sure you're sick
of hearing about yourself.

your eyes are bright.
it's not because of the
way the sun is shining,
but the storm inside
your head that refuses
to let you stop crying
and i just wish i knew
how to help.

i drew a map of my head
to sort out my thoughts
maybe if i could differentiate
the road of happiness
from the road of sadness
i would be more stable

i question everything because

within my mind is the
constant fear of lonely

so i doubt often

like if what you say is
truth or a plea for my sanity

use my body as a
blank canvas to express
each of your thoughts
through soft touches
and genuine kisses.

imagine opening doors to an abandoned universe

meet me in the hazy
smoke filled room.
hold my hand
and guide me to the exit.
i'd much rather fill my lungs
with you instead.

touch your lips
to my skin
let me feel
and take you in
wrap your arms
around me tight
whisper sweet words
to me all night