I don't think I can ever make enemies
were probably just gonna end up bonding over how much we hate me

I could do this forever.
It's like
Running into an old friend
And sitting down for just one cup
Of coffee, then realizing you've had five.
It's like
Settling into the plump plush pillows
In a darkened room as the beginning credits
To your weekend marathon roll across the screen.
It's like
Shaking out that huge-*** beach towel
On the warm sand and pulling out
The stack of super-fast-read ****** paperbacks.
It's like
The first bite of Pavlova
And digging in and digging in
Until the whole cake is gone and you don't regret it at all.
Its like
Finding that last reserve of strength
To channel all your power into your fist
And strike the bag so hard it loses sand.
It's like
All the things I love to do
And doing them all at the same time.
That's what this is.

I craft my haikus
By counting syllables on
Dancing phalanges.

It was 27 minutes past 1 o'clock in the morning.
I stood staring down at her
Curled up form on the couch.
No one knew.
I reached out to smooth back her hair
But my hand passed right through.
Fingers curling into fists,
I step back in a cloud of mist
And waited for answers to be given.
But there are no answers in death.
I stare at her unable to comprehend
How she could just lie there
When I was standing here.
So I started to scream, to yell, and to shout.
I banged on the wall and slammed all the doors.
Nothing.
No one knew.
I raced up the stairs to where the others slept.
They stirred not an inch as I reached out to pinch
Their snoring, ignoring selves.
Heavy footsteps fell as I trod back downstairs
To the room in which she slept.
The clock now read 1:28.
How could this be?
How could she sleep?
I was right here!
But then again, I was right there too,
Dead on the couch.