commitment feels like
drowning, attached to the ankle to a person
who you had once known so well but
now it's starting to feel
boring.
it's not a wild trip anymore
excitedly going day through day with
this singular person
who you had found so much joy in
you no longer experience that rush
of exhilaration with every touch
now you are handcuffed
attached forever
to this...
burden.
although you feel guilty
for thinking in such a way
about a person you are supposed to
care, and love
you feel stuck
unable to move any longer
thanks to a foolish decision
called commitment.

with elegance and charisma
he sweeps into the room
consciously making heads turn in awe
he smiles, a gentle lilt to his lips
he is a gentleman of the past
bringing with him swoons of dainty women
his eyes are sharp and his heart sharper
he bats away confessions as easily as dismissing a thought
he pursues none
for he needs none
to give him amusement or pleasure
he immerses himself in history
and wonders why he was born
in a time and place where he feels as if he does not belong

emotions are pushed
behind a wall of glass
where they yell,
pounding at the barrier
but they are muffled
hardly interfering
with my apathetic mind.

the mirror reflects my
fake, plastic skin
with my
fake, plastic eyes
there's no luster in them
no life behind the eyes of a doll
of a puppet with
no knowledge of the world
unable to learn through
the human method of trial and error
and so it keeps repeating
the same mistakes
until it ruins its plastic skin
and breaks its plastic eyes
and destroys its plastic heart

get
up             the stair  s
      t he   y
're com     in g pre tned
                         to be  asle e  p
                                                            i       'm
                                   s       c ar e         d


  they stumble up the stairs, alcohol on their breath and a sway to their steps

                             the real monsters are my parents

she calls herself
"damaged goods"
as if the past stains her future with ***** fingers
marking thoughtless insults on her forehead
for all to see and judge
as if her gaze is shrouded in darkness
only able to comprehend pessimism and bleakness
never able to find love
for she is broken beyond compare
as if her lips will never be able to find another's
for she is so repulsive none will touch her

she fears that strangers can see through her
thinly veiled paranoia
and her vision turns their bored gazes into accusing glares
silently judging her with every blink
she wants to crawl away
and pull her knees to her chest and cry
she wonders if her smiles,
stretched thin across her cheeks
are obviously fake
she wonders when her acting career will be up
and then she will be tossed onto the streets
her defectiveness obviously revealed
to an invisible crowd, watching and waiting
for her time to be up

she calls herself
"damaged goods"
because she cannot comprehend
how valuable she really is
the same way a sunflower brightens a desolate field
she brings laughter to the heavy hearted
she brings admiration from the shy
she brings comfort from the ones
just like her,
who are afraid to be themselves