Pages from a long lost notebook scream
Your every touch, pained ink spilling
From my innocence in the days of knowing you
Rules and lines I can’t erase
You stay, hovering my simple mind when you weren’t even there
And so
Do I burn it?
Cherish it?
Tear it to shreds and feed my hungry soul?

If I stare long enough, I’ll summon your imminent presence.

For the voices to cease,
Fall into slumber
Sweet voices who do not know
My nightly ritual show
Desperate relief from my sorrow
Clutching my last hope.

There’s an old man beside me, sitting untouched in the ripped withered chair. He sits alone, his only company, a crossword puzzle. Coffee complimented with 2 pieces of apple pie, his highlighters neatly placed parallel to the book. Concentration becomes him, screaming children does not impair the streaking.

And for a few seconds, with strong beliefs of being unnoticed, unimportant, he releases a look of pure nostalgia. Memories flood the man’s white hair, pupils left vacant.

To say my morphing characteristics have
Flown out of the window from the
7th floor white-walled room
Can only give me goosebumps at best

I know not who I claimed to be
But only the smooth dirt that slides off of my fingertips
The impending embrace of the insect filled corners
Are all I can promise you, my phantom.

From every comfortable slumber
and sleepless night

You are my favorite dream.

Sometimes I don't wanna let go
Cause this burning wax is all that I know
And if you peel it from my cracked hands
I'll have nothing to breathe for.

At the strike of 1:30pm, she inhales her surroundings
Of static and melting human faces
Every detail of the smiling man send her nerves
To that sharp edges of this ***** desk
And fantasies in her simple mind
Toss and turn, ideas glitching in her iris
Of snapping the necks of poor incompetent strangers
But mostly, achingly, her sweet gushing blood
That surely tastes of her dreaming unclenched fists.