have you ever felt the air move
in a way
that touched your soul?
a small movement
outside of your window,
a sound dancing in the breeze
the rustle of the leaves in the trees

as you breathe in
it fills up your lungs
with memories
and melancholy

a yearn, an ache
for a life once lived

a past,
so special
and powerful
that the scent
the feeling
the sense of home
reverberates through your entire being

we search our whole lives
for meaning,
for the meaning

why are we here,
what are we meant for

did we ever think it was to be content?
to be happy...
in the body,
in the mind,
in the life,
in the person
that we are.

to be ourselves,
to the core

have you ever heard
a song,
or a phrase
that touched you
to the core?

that made you scared
that you are living
the wrong life.

because the words,
the melody,
the place it brought you to
felt so genuinely you
felt so perfect
felt so content
felt so happy
felt like a place you once were,
or have always wanted to be.

why do I stay up so late

where the monsters
of what could have
and what should have
linger

why do I stay up so late

crying over spilt milk
and conversations
buried in the past

why do I stay up so late

when I know
that you reside
in those early, wine-soaked
morning hours

why do I stay up so late

and fret
about the future,
while I’m in the present

why do I stay up so late

when,
just like cinderella,
the strike of midnight
should be my cue
to cut off all emotions
and enjoy a pumpkin ride back home

why do I stay up so late

when I know
that I miss you
and it hurts the most
when I’m alone at 2am

why do I stay up so late

when breakfast is just around the corner,
and decisions made at 7am
are much more manageable
to obtain

why do I stay up so late

when I know better

I was looking up at the night sky
and I saw your face dotted in the stars,
you winked at me then went away

and while I was walking the dog
I felt your arms around me
as the wind brushed against my skin

you were there
while I was driving the car
and that song came on,
you know the one I'm talking about

and when the sun broke through the clouds,
glistening and glowing
on the rain kissed tarmac
I could feel your smile

not a day goes by
where I feel alone
because I know you're always there
in the sky, in the wind, in the rain,
in my heart.

you may be gone, but your spirit lives on

when you miss someone
you start to miss those things
that you never noticed before

like the subtle way
they put their hand on your leg
while you're driving

or falling asleep
on their lap
while watching a movie

when you miss someone
you miss everything about them

you miss hearing
about their hopes and dreams,
finding out what makes them tick
and quiet nights
with barely any words at all

when you miss someone
you miss their scent,
their crooked smile
and their wayward hair

when you miss someone
life seems unfair

but when you miss someone
you know that moment
you see them next
will be the sweetest of all

maybe if I put my ear to a shell
I can hear the ocean calling my name,
calling me home

sometimes I imagine I hear
the waves hitting the shore
outside of my bedroom window

and I dream
of the next time we're together

the sand is warm
and I bury my feet in it.
I close my eyes
and turn my face to the sun.
I breathe in the salty ocean air,
I am content.

and I dream
of two kindred spirits
reuniting again

you crashed into me
like the waves hitting the shoreline,
strong and sure

once you became a part of my life,
it was as though I had never not known you

your smile,
your laugh,
your eyes
and your words,
they are captivating
and exciting
and so special to me

i wish that you were here beside me,
because there's so much that i want to tell you,
so much that you need to hear

you scare me,
you electrify me,
you own every thought running through my mind

and like an addict
i don't want to stop
thinking about you
or feeling this way

and like an addict
i'm denying everything

but i know
--
i want to be the ocean to your shoreline,
gently kissing you to sleep,
tumbling head over heels into you
and waking up beside you
for the rest of my life

sometimes i feel hollow
like i don't have
bones
or blood
or organs
or anything inside

all that i am is a hollow human being

where dread and panic and anxiety
can easily ricochet around,
making me ache from the inside out

it starts with a pang,
where my heart is supposed to be.
and then spreads like wildfire
across my skin,
through my chest,
along my arms
and down my legs.
into the tips of my fingers and toes,
burning my ears
and catching in my throat.
and all that's inside of me is this hurt.

sometimes i feel hollow,
like a lonely, old oak tree
that's been zapped by lightning
one too many times.
he still stands, strong and proud
but electricity tingles
and makes him feel vulnerable
every now and then.

sometimes i feel hollow
and broken up inside

sometimes i feel hollow
like i can hear an echo when i talk,
my words just bounce around
with no purpose or drive

sometimes i feel hollow
like a needle could make me burst

sometimes i feel hollow
like all i am is an empty shell

*sometimes i feel hollow

I think the thing that fascinates people the most about shooting stars is how fleeting they are. They are here one second and gone the next. They are relatable. Life is here one second and can be taken the next. Memories and moments are here one second and then gone the next. Shooting stars are rare and uncertain. They are beautiful and unique. They are a glimpse into something terrifyingly unknown. They are home to our wishes and dreams. They are far away and distant, surreal entities falling through the night sky. They are adrenaline rushing through serenity. They make us ask questions. They make us calm. They give us hope. But most importantly they bring a smile to our face, maybe when we need it the most. So make a wish.

when does familiar
become boring and mundane?

when does home
become a place we once knew?

when does life
move on?

where do we go from here?

it was the kind of heat
that slicks your skin
and dampens your clothing,
matting it to your body

but i kept on walking

each step was another day closer

15
14
13
12

the edge was getting closer

11
10

unbearably hot
but somehow comforting,
like a blanket
it engulfed me
and it started to feel okay
to be exposed

9
8
7

i could hear the waves
getting louder
as they crashed onto the rocks
spewing foam up the sides of the cliff

6
5
4

the baby carriage was getting harder to push,
as i had loaded it with more
at each step

3
2

my mothers tears,
some naivety,
thoughts of looking back,
fear,
anxiety,
questions

1

things that i didn't need anymore
swelled in the buggy
and the day was here
to let them go

the drop was steep
and unrelenting

0

with a swift push,
i covered my eyes
and listened to it fall
as i rose
into the sky
higher
and higher
and higher

goodbye
to everything holding me back
my destination,
new and uncharted,
was all that was on my mind

and as i looked out
over the Pacific Ocean
the fear of saying goodbye
became nothing
but a shipwreck in my past,
a reminder that
it is so much easier to say hello
and welcome each new experience
with reckless abandon

and sometimes i need to tell myself
to stop being so literal

if i can learn
to write words,
like Picasso
created art

beautiful and abstract

then they will become mine
and theirs

a story
deciphered in a million different ways

one time i got lost
in the craziness of this world,
i took one wrong turn
and ended up at a dead end.

i walked a few more blocks,
grew a few more years older,
learned a little more
but ended up at the same dead end.

i banged my fists against the wall,
there had to be another way.
but when i looked back all i saw was pain
and when i looked forward all i saw was the wall.

people tried to tell me who i was
and i believed them.
i lost myself
to this dead end.

my hands were bruised,
exhausted and drained.

what is hope i asked,
when there is nothing to hope for?
what is glee,
when there is no reason to be happy?
what does it feel like to be accepted,
when fingers only point out flaws?

i thought i knew the answers
but if no one else in this world does
then it’s hard to believe they are true.

i got lost
in this world,
and need the directions to get back home.

i opened my mind the other day
and saw that it was a mess

i unlocked the door
turned on the lights
and cracked open some windows

fresh air cascaded in
and taught me how to breathe again

it had been too long
since i swept those floors
they were ***** and grimy,
covered in life’s sticky sweat

a tornado
of captured times
and stolen moments
had blown through

so i reorganized
and prioritized,
filing fun under urgent
and fear under forgettable

once i was done
there was so much empty hardwood floor,
i just knew that i was ready
to fill it up with more

a daunting bolero sends a shiver through a dream
a forlorn melody haunting a hazy delusion
crooning on a whimsical note
and breaking a melancholy tone
an elusive song opens into an abyss
of mambos and rumbas
that thrill like a superfluity of delicious electricity
strumming at our deepest treasures
buried in woebegone memories
seeping into our cellophane heads
and enveloping our entire being
until we heave our way back to reality
and dissolve into a sea of people
who are only twinkles
in the scudded windshields
of a rococo world

you drank
from my glass of desire
and left it half full,
in my dreams

magnetic,
there is an unexplainable pull
slowly
drawing us closer,
i wish

moments
echo in my mind,
telling me what could
be
telling me what i
want

snapshots
of us,
together

we do it all
go everywhere
tell
everything

my body aches,
every muscle tense,
as i try,
*i try so hard,
to give you a face

i see the writings in the bathroom stalls,
carved into dying trees
and wept into sepia letters

they give me hope
that
someday
you will be far from
faceless

when we’re given lemons, we’re told to make lemonade
and when we’re given a choice, we’re told which side to choose
and when we think of something, we’re told to share it with the world
and when we do something (anything), it’s recommended that we suffer the consequences—good or bad

basically,
we live our lives being told what to do,
and how to act,
and what to eat,
and how much to eat,
and what to wear,
and where to live,
and how much to learn,
and what is wrong,
and what is right,
and what sounds good,
and what sounds bad,
and what colour to choose,
and what person to befriend,
and who to talk to,
and how much money to make,
and how to spend it

what i’ve been told is that words no longer have meanings, and lifelong friendships no longer matter, and *** is no longer intimate, and family isn’t important, and god doesn’t exist, and you’re not allowed to be biased, and trips to space cost 200 grand, and celebrities (amplified people just like me or you) dictate our lives, and there are scary parts of town, and no one can be trusted (innocence is a crime), and no one can be pleased (trying to make someone happy only makes you a weaker person)

no matter what you do, something is going to be wrong in the eyes of another
which is why it is even more imperative to cast these views aside and embrace individuality

life spins around you, never slowing down. there is always a new problem, a new delight, a new baby, a new wedding, a new movie, new drama and on and on and on. but sometimes, you put your headphones on and completely escape. you slip into another reality. where all of the tar, all of the stuff inside of you, holding you together or tearing you apart…it slowly melts away. and you feel light.

perfectly content. like you just practiced yoga and all of those toxins are completely washed away. or you took a 30 minute power nap, and you feel relaxed and refreshed. or you just jumped off of a dock into the ice cold water for the first time that year. the sun is shining down on you, and your eyes are closed. the air slowly wisps through your hair. and you let out a large satisfied sigh.

or maybe it just tore your heart out. but you need to listen to that song, that artist. because they have been through it too. the heartache of losing someone that they loved dearly. through the pain of death or a broken relationship or just simply losing touch. life happens but it hurts. and they make you feel like you are a part of something. you are no longer alone. the words describe exactly what you are going through. they understand you. and listening to them hurts and heals at the same time.

so you say thank you. to the melody, the harmony, the instruments, the voice, the lyrics, that one crescendo that sends chills up and down your spine, the fans cheering in a live recording, the strum of an acoustic guitar. thank you.

ghosts ran down the halls
i heard their footsteps
echoing
echoing
echoing
in my mind

i hate the word cried
and the implication of that word
but i cried
because those ghosts
reminded me of what i could have been
and do not make me proud
of who i am

my confidence
is in shambles,
scattered across my bedroom floor
every broken shard
telling me that i’m stupid
“you stupid,
dumb,
ungrateful,
naive little girl.
you are NEVER
going to amount to anything more”

and sometimes those ghosts
become real
murmured quietly (unrelenting)
from the lips
of friends
of strangers
of teachers
of demons
ripping at my being
and telling me i’m not worthy

but i am
I am
I AM.

and who the **** is to tell me that i’m not.

the restlessness aches in my arms and shoots straight through to the tips of my fingers

i clench my hands together to relieve some of the tension,
fists of pure frustration
it is like my blood is moving faster through me,
telling my body to get up and go
…go wherever my feet take me.

there’s no need to get ready for this journey, or pack
it just needs to happen
i just need to let go.

i scrunch my toes and scrunch my nose,
a deliberate distraction.
my eyes squeeze together in agony
but i’m not in pain,
i’m in want.

i want to do something that i can’t
and that hurts more than any physical ache ever could.

it is an internal struggle with my body, my heart and my brain

my brain says:
‘no, you do not have the money or courage to get off of your *** and do something different. finish what you have started and then you can go. just wait another day, another month, another year.’

my heart says:
‘leave, leave, leave. get the HELL out of here! NOW!’

my body sends mixed signals:
‘my heart is pumping, my blood is racing but my feet aren’t moving’

i calm myself down,
because i know one day these three parts of me will work together in unison
and my brain will let me have what i want, my heart will smile and my feet will move.

i had a nightmare

i woke up
the sun was shining
bird’s were chirping
and the smell of freshly brewed coffee was wafting into my room

i slowly rolled out of bed,
a stiff crack shuddered through my body
and i rubbed my misty eyes

shuffling into the kitchen
i grabbed a large mug
and filled it to the brim

my newspaper was waiting outside
beside my blue adirondack chair
the lake was shining as the sun’s rays danced playful across it’s waves
and i could make out the silhouette of a man on the dock

he was familiar
and i knew that i loved him

it was a perfect Saturday morning
i looked over at the man
and smiled

he looked back and asked,
‘honey, where are your glasses?’

i was surprised,
i had never worn glasses a day in my life
but felt the urge to travel back inside to find them

after a long search
i found myself with my glasses in hand
in front of the bathroom mirror

i placed them on my face
and looked in the mirror
but the person looking back was not me

her face was wrinkly
and speckled with dark spots,
her hair was grey
and permed
her teeth were stained
and her eyes reflected years of memories and life

i screamed
and the face screamed back
and we both screamed at each other

‘honey, what’s wrong?’
yelled the man,
as he raced into the house
‘what’s wrong?’
‘what’s wrong?’
‘what’s wrong?’

i opened my eyes

and my roommate was shaking me,
‘what’s wrong?’ she asked,
eyes filled with concern

‘i’m old’
i managed to say as i gasped for air

your feet
rooted to the hard, frozen ground
attaching you to the earth

you and the earth
solidity
a sturdy feeling
as if there's nothing left to know or learn
everything that matters
everything important and urgent
it s
     l
       i
         p
           s
     away
the dry winter air absorbs it
and all that's left is you
tingling fingers
red ears
itchy mittens
short breaths
runny nose
watery eyes
bare trees
and
migrating birds

there is a time in everyone’s life
where they feel incredibly
          normal
we work to make money,
we spend the money we make to live,
we live to work.
the never ending circle of life.
almost makes you want to watch lion king,
and escape from reality.
movies and fictional characters and books help us do that,
escape.
it’s sad that we have to use that word,
escape.
like we’re stuck somewhere, in prison, and we need to get out.
but is it even truly possible to
escape.
escape reality.
escape life.
escape grief.
escape the mundane.
escape everyday.
should we want to
escape?
does life have to be a jail cell?
why can’t it be a door,
or an open field,
or an unmarked trail,
or the beginning of a story.
less escaping,
more experiencing.
that is my goal in life.

to me
Niagara is represented
by the seasons

it starts off
as a new year,
fresh snow on the ground,
endless possibilities

you step out of your house,
maybe on Devine Crescent in Thorold,
and that first breath
of crisp winter air
fills your lungs
and freezes you to the bone
and reminds you that you are alive

everything is always
so still
on January 1st

like a clean slate,
an empty canvas

and then movement begins to paint the beginning of a detailed picture

[migrating geese,
the rustle of a tree,
a car alarm going off,
the sun trying to peak through the grey clouds,
a friend shouting your name]

and the moment shatters
and the new year officially begins

maybe it starts off
with breakfast at Lester Dees
and quickly, but silently,
unfurls into a whirlwind
of school and work and birthdays and holidays and movies and dates and a trip to Niagara Falls and a stroll through Niagara-on-the-Lake and a hike through the Escarpment in Grimsby and joy and happiness and sadness and laughter and tears
and moments

spring blossoms
you feel drenched by the April rain
and weighted down from melodramatic February

but you also feel that sense
of hope
that tingling in your toes
that something good is coming

so enjoy a drink
on a patio in Port Dalhousie,
and crank the volume up
a little bit louder
before a concert at Mansion House,
and take in the scenery
as you run along the Welland Canal

because spring is here

as the days get longer
and the sun gets hotter
summer, lazy as a sloth, engulfs Niagara

Crystal Beach is in full swing
and summer becomes home
to barbecues, camping adventures, road trips, hiking at DeCew Falls, late night laughter, reminiscing around a campfire, the reuniting of old friends, dips in ice cold pools and water gun wars

and as slow and nonchalant
as it entered your life
summer slips away,
like the golden sunsets that it harbors

the leaves change to brilliant shades
of red, yellow and orange,
we wrap ourselves in scarves
and hats and mitts

the world quietly changes around us

fall gives us
warm nights by the fireside
and hands locked while walking along the Escarpment, the city stretched out below

while the squirrels scrounge for food,
we, too, scamper around,
wondering where the year has gone

some will exhale,
a sigh of relief
and some will allow
a large, satisfied grin to stretch across their face

and fall is just that,
a time to reflect
on all that has gone right
and all that has gone wrong

what resolutions did we keep,
and what did we let melt away,
with the humid summer heat

Niagara changes every year
but it is consistent in its ability
to mold new life, to stretch itself, to immerse itself in every season, to provide outlets to enjoy life, to be that friend that is always there to fall back on
and to provide those memories that bring a smile to your face
and leave a warm feeling in your heart
Niagara is home.

it’s a place

it’s a time

it’s a memory

it’s a smile

it’s the changing of leaves

it’s the scent of a wood-burning fireplace

it’s a moment

it’s a laugh

it’s a kiss

it’s that anxiety you get in your throat right before you’re going to cry

it’s a dog panting and wagging it’s tail

it’s a flash of colour through the black

it’s a pair of pants

it’s holding hands

it’s someone’s arm around you, pulling you closer as you fall asleep

it’s falling

it’s strength

it’s a river

it’s an ocean

it’s a waterfall

it’s rain

it’s dancing

it’s uninhibited

it’s passion

it’s an old, crackled picture

it’s a friend that you haven’t seen in three years

it’s a road, the yellow dividers ticking by

it’s a mountain

it’s a birch tree

it’s an aluminum boat

it’s a view

it’s a pitcher of beer

it’s a bottle of wine

it’s a drinking game in an old cement basement

it’s a rooftop

it’s a pair of sunglasses

it’s those old shoes that you wish you’d never donated

it’s grandma’s jewelery

it’s a cat’s tail disappearing behind a couch

it’s a song that your mom used to play on the piano

it’s grilled cheese and tomato soup

it’s a summer

it’s a season

it’s treading water

it’s christmas

it’s playing hookey

it’s a cup of tea on a foggy day

it’s freedom

it’s the windows rolled down

it’s humidity

it’s waking up under the sun

it’s waking up under the stars

it’s legs intertwined

it’s a flashlight in the forest

it’s ghost stories

it’s that concert, the one you swore changed your life

it’s running naked down an old wooden dock

it’s a song

it’s family

it’s then

it’s goodbye

it was.

the ebb and flow
of daily life
becomes routine

we become comfortable
with our jobs
our friends,
our hobbies,
our leisure nights with a cup of tea and the TV

nothing new,
always the same

the sun sets at night
and rises on another day,
night and day
sunset and sunrise
night and day
sunset and sunrise

until the weeks
melt together
the months
fly by
and soon enough
years
of merely being,
merely moving within our comfort zone
are gone
and we have never truly lived,
we have just been

it takes some effort
to put life in our years,
but the satisfaction
of a life well lived
far outweighs
the regret
of never doing
something that scares us,
or makes our heart beat faster,
or opens our eyes to a new feeling, a new viewpoint, a new culture

live unordinary,
take risks,
learn to laugh at your mistakes,
read books,
take flights to places that you cannot pronounce,
meet new people and build worldwide connections,
be thirsty to learn more
and do more
and be more

never give up
on those dreams
that you made as a child

unrealistic is merely a word

“jolene, jolene, jolene, jolene…”
dolly parton belted away

i sped past a field
another field
horses whipped their tails in a fury

i sung along,
“jolene, jolene, jolene, jolene…”

the sky was menacing
and finally opened up,
cried onto my windshield
my wipers worked double time

a sticky kind of rain,
where the air is so warm and humid
that it feels like a fleece blanket;
the best kind of rain

i pulled onto the shoulder
and danced up and down the yellow lines
because that’s just what you do
in this kind of rain

“jolene, jolene, jolene, jolene…”
dolly parton serenaded me
as i put on a show
for lazy cows and wayward dogs

and i screamed along with the song
“you could have your choice of men
but i could never love again
he’s the only one for me, jolene”*
the rain and my dancing
became an entangled, erratic mess

as i pulled away, wet and cold,
i ejected the CD that he made for me,
threw it out the window
and ran it over
three times, for good measure

i ******* hate jolene

chapped lips
sticky and sweet
the popsicle melts
and stains my crisp white dress
a seagull steals the french fry out of a little boy’s hands,
he begins to cry
the busker’s sing songs
of love and loss,
whiskey and wine
the boardwalk creaks
and i dream
of a cold beer on the beach,
the melody of waves reuniting with sand
like long lost friends
the soothing slap of sandals on pavement
freckles and homemade jam
midnight adventures to the park
skinny-dipping in a strangers pool
hopscotch and chalk
freshly painted toenails
the sun gifting us with golden skin and golden hair
adirondack chairs and campfires
fishing in lady evelyn and portaging in temagami
braving the falls at muskegoe
and counting the stars while lying on the bridge
catching frogs in the pond
while drinking coolers in paddle boats
sweaty palms and first kisses,
nervous anticipation
red skies mark the beginning of endless nights
i dip my toes in the fresh water
and the ripples skew my reflection
the man in the moon is happy
and so am i

the cold wind howls outside,
the sudden downpour makes the stray cats scatter,
and a car backfires up the road.

you’re drunk, you’re upset
make-up streams down your face,
intertwining with your tears.

a pathetic fallacy if i ever saw one.

i’m outside;
my flesh hits the cold brick
at the side of the house

i’m not drunk, but i’m upset
and i can’t let you see
so i prescribe the cold and rain as my remedy,
it reminds me that i’m still here.

and i shiver,
but it’s better then going inside.

going inside means that i would have to tell you
why something so trivial
made me break down.

going inside means that you would discover
the secret behind my facade.

because i’m not upset at you
and i’m not angry.

i’m scared.

this real world that we’re living in,
it’s beating me up.

i’m afraid.

because in my mind,
my fear and my pain
is not as severe as yours.

and i’m terrified,
that you’ll call me weak
and you’ll laugh.

so for now,
i’ll lean against this brick wall
and let the rain and the cold
become my drug.

and i’m still reeling
from that moment when i let it all go.
and i’m still waiting
for that moment when i’m truly going to know.

and i’m still hoping
that you’ll find me here.

because i’m done searching
and i’m done trying to figure it all out.

i’m bathing in this solitude;
i’m immersed in it.
and i’m not going to be held responsible
for pulling myself out,
i refuse.

it’s a simple situation,
that you’ll just need to comprehend.
wrap your thick head around it,
try to understand
where i’m coming from
and what i want.

because once you do;
once you know,
it’ll be easy.
and you’ll regret
not saving me sooner.
and you’ll regret
waiting so long.

i’m here,
and now’s the time
to be my knight in shining armor.

three syllables, three words
i and love and you

it feels like someone is squeezing your heart
their fist wraps around it
and clenches hard
then quickly lets go
and you inhale, exhale

your breaths are shallow
and your entire body feels weak,
your head is light
and your ***** grin doesn’t go away
when your mind wanders,
it always ends  up at the same place

you know it’s not love
but it sure as hell feels good

every little thing feels special

a nickname,
a text,
a goodbye hug,
a goofy smile

and you just wait,
for the ride to begin

alien
and
surreal
like
picking the ripest mango,
slow dancing under the brightest stars,
lighting candles in the backyard,
tiptoeing on creaky wood floors,
searching for ghosts in old white houses,
staring at the sun too long,
running down empty roads in the middle of the night,
smiling at the most inappropriate times,
swimming with the moon,
finding someone else’s eyes in a crowded room,
empty rocking chairs,
bellyaching laughs,
aviator sunglasses,
twenty hour car rides,
endless stretch of field
and the best of joni mitchell

your mind
is in a punch bowl
floating,
drunk and dizzy
and
as light as a balloon

your heart,
is licking old wounds
and tearing off ****** bandages,
ready for war once again

your mind blows a fuse
and there’s an earthquake in your chest
that little solider in there
no matter how broken and depressed
always seems to know
exactly what is best

i thought i wanted to see another side of you
but i couldn’t,
i didn’t
and i probably never will

truthfully, i knew all along
that there was never anything there

my
sweet, kind
partner in crime
selfless, generous
friend

i saw the way you smiled
when i smiled
and the way your eyes sparkled
when i caught them staring into mine

i’m sorry if i hurt you,
or let you down
but maybe i’m just putting myself on a pedestal

am i selfish
for wanting things to be
a little more
extraterrestrial?

should i feel guilty
because i’m longing for
fireworks?

am i self-centered
for wanting to feel
light-headed?

i want it to be magical
and i know
that you’re not the one
meant to sweep me off my feet

you don’t hold that power over me,
and you probably never will

so convict me for telling the truth
instead of sugar-coating

and condemn me
for just wanting to be your friend

but i know you’ll find someone
who’s pulse will quicken,
breath will shorten
and knees will tremble

and you will be glad,
my friend

2 am
is the best time to think

the sun is no longer there
to hold you accountable
and the moon is nothing
but a burnt out streetlight

those black cats that cross your path
are not bad luck
lurking shadows are long-lost friends
the city is a maze of empty sidewalks
and the traffic lights still turn
red yellow green

you are on the verge
of being so tired
that you are near delusional
and on the verge
of being so delusional
that you are almost rational

2 am
is the time when you really understand
life
love
and how to find eternal happiness

so you make plans
so you set goals
so you promise yourself, promise
that tomorrow will be different

BUT technically, tomorrow is today
and you are either
to drunk to remember
to lazy to act
or
to stupid to comprehend
that what you thought at 2 am
could really change your life

and here we are
at the beginning.

immortal
free,
no restrictions
or boundaries
...just infinity.

we aren’t making plans,
we’re living.

we’re shaking our hair,
swaying our hips,
moving our feet,
closing our eyes,
relaxing our shoulders,
screaming at the top of our lungs
and glowing in our youth.

holding on to moments of pure bliss.

the world is our teacher and we are it’s students…

trying to figure out who we are
and praying for dear life that reality will never catch us.

a lone car
drives by
on this forlorn highway

we’re heading
somewhere,
or nowhere;
anywhere

it’s dark,
early

another day
ready
for new mistakes
and opportunities

fresh

and our tired eyes
witness
the light,
slowly creeping up the fields,
grasping at fences and housetops

cleansing the world from yesterday

and on this lonely highway,
we become
alive