I’m writing here because my Twitter followers are going to get annoyed.

And this is 2013 and all my friends are digital.

Except for when I used to live near people.

Now I live near houses.

And every so often I think I reach out to find someone to live within

Because this young body is breaking down

And I can’t contain what’s inside.

It’s all about to burst out in an exploding flurry

And everyone is going to fall out of my life

Because I haven’t trimmed the fences

(That grow like vines; higher and higher)

In hopes that when my body dies

I’ll still be able to hold myself together.

But when you live within a poison

That eats through more than your body

And sleeps beside you

And touches you

And tells you you’re the poison

And you feel guilty for trying to understand his fences

And why his body is breaking too.


But you did what was right;

You criticized the arsenic for being what it was

And tossed it aside to save for when you were ready to go.

And that’s where I’ve blindly sat for four weeks and a couple days.

And searched the internet for answers as to why.

And told the internet that I’ve become a poison.

And cried because it’s 2013 and all my friends are digital.








And mourned the life I used to live
When I used to live near people.