It pains me
To have to avoid
Your captivating eyes

Everytime I pass you
On the way to class
A part of me dies

What little contact we had
My how the sparks flew
It was magic

But now I have to pretend I didn't hear you
When you chase me down the hall
It seems quite tragic

I've become the master of staring
Straight ahead
Instead of even glancing your way

I know you think I hate you
And I don't
In fact-I love you

But I can't let it go too far
It's too dangerous
Pleast stay away

how strange
the gift of contemplation
to allow the mind to wander
creating imaginary worlds
in our skulls
the ability to ponder
what meaning, if any
there is(n't)
in our fleeting days
we trivialize time
as a linear tool
by which we measure
our triumphs, losses
all the same
in the grand scheme
how strange
my arms and legs
moving, making
running in circles
to survive
but there's momentary bliss
in the recollection
of a beautiful day
with someone I loved
long ago
the clock stops
as does the pain
of existing within
such looming madness

Good Evening, my lover.
I have long awaited your arrival.
You see, my darling.
I have some news.
But I'll wait until you've finished you drink,
It's my own mixture.

Good Night, my lover.
I see you're now gone.
You see my darling,
We will be together again soon,
In the deepest pit of hell,
Where we belong.

I told you I wasn’t perfect, but on your pedestal I stood
I told you I would make mistakes, but you didn’t hear a word
I begged and I pleaded for you to listen, but you would drown me out
So the day I ****** things up was the day you did more than shout
You wailed and screamed and cried, you held a funeral as if the pretty parts of me had died
But Honey, I warned you, perfection is not real
The disappointment you have is yours to carry, and is not mine to feel
As you leave you slam the door, trailing echoes of regret
I cover my ears for silence, but my thoughts break through in time
If you would have just listened, ******* opened up your eyes
You would have seen that honey, this came as no surprise
This disappointment is yours, and is not mine
For honey I’ve known that I’m not perfect for quite a long time.

The room feels heavy,
sleepy morning smiles
and satiate English words
clinging to to air.
They reach out,
trying to pinch me,
as insistent as
the professor's smile.

Some of us still feel
as we do at 7 a.m.,
though our minds are
overflowing fountains
of new knowledge
as we try to hold
and scoop it back in.
they're drowning me,
the letters are drowning
and too tired
to swim.

It's the feeling I get
of a stomach ache
and not being able to tell
whether it's because
I'm actually sick,
or just overwhelmed
with possibilities.
*What will I do?
What will I be?
Maybe I should
just try to focus
on what's in front
of me.

It's more than just constant worry,
It's fear.

The fear of the small things,
Did I leave the oven on?
Did I lock the door?
Do my socks match?

The fear of the big things,
Does he love me?
Am I annoying?
Is somebody following me?

The fear of seemingly impossible things,
What if somebody shoots up the school?
What if I die today from a meteor?
Are there robot overlords?

The fear of unfortunate possible things,
What if If I don't have exact change?
I don't know how to answer this question, what if the teacher calls on me?
I cant stop loving him, even though he probably doesn't know I exist

It is more than a constant worry,
It's fear.