all i remembered was that i did not care for the feeling, that i did not want to be that person. feel that hurt.
Now i am that person. i feel that hurt.

"You're tired, aren't you?"*

Not in the way that you think.

If I'm being honest
I'm tired of being a poet.
I'm tired of findig meaning in everything from the lines of the sky to the cracks in the side walk
I'm tired of using extended metaphors to explain how overwhelmed or angry or sad I am 
I'm tired of immortalizing the people I love or hate in half assed lines of poetry
For once I would like a good day just to be a good day or a bad day just to be a bad day
A landscape to hold no higher meaning than to magnify the glory of existence
For the people I know to hold no cosmic significance in the fabric of time
I would like to sit and be quiet
To write and be at peace
For the storm to pass over
And to find some relief
This is not a game for me this is how I breathe and I am tired of having to hold meaning in every crack and every crevice
My poetic nature has become a menice in my tired skin
I'm tired of letting the light in
But this isn't something you quit
This is something you breathe
This is something you are
This is something you need
Even if it doesn't make sense all the time
This is the one true thing I know that's mine
My sense of rhythm and my sense of rhyme
And it isn't easy all the time
Because these days life moves faster than I've even known
Faster than I can process what I've been shown
These days it's easy to feel the weight of all of my time spent alone
My mind isn't home
I'm chilled to the bone
These days I'm tired of being tired and tired of writing about how tired I am
Like I'm six feet under but I'm not yet dead
Using poetic devices to say what's already been said
I'm tired of playing this game
Imortalizing name after name
I still feel the same
Even though I still keep writing
So what I'm trying to say is that I need poetry like I need water but sometimes if you drink too fast or you drink too deep you feel like you're drowning
Out to sea in familiar surroundings
It's astounding how tiring being a poet can be.

A friend attempted to break me

Took a love of mine from under me

She won't approach me now

I smiled when I saw her, just yesterday

She packed up her things and left

Remember how not there for me you were?
January 26, 2016
In just an hour you turn 24.

But you got sick earlier you said
I could barely lift myself out of a death like nap
I sit in my bed floating back and forth between
Luxuriating in the quiet
To feeling like I am much, much too idle
You can't really fathom or express
Your wonderment for me
Because it hurts you too much
Your lips refuse to utter.

I'll always be standing at the bar
Patiently waiting
To order my own ******* drink
As long as you are in the room.

I bought you a gift
"You are too much!"
You say, sprinkling pixie dust and ruin
I hang onto to sugar covered little limbs
Make me feel something
Someone slap me, punch me, **** me
Distract me
I erase my face
I erase my face
I erase my face.

I gotta write something nice for you
For tomorrow
I guess
But all I really wanna do is erase my face.

10:58pm
I guess I thought my night would be different
Sweet Actor guy is disappointed I won't go out with him tonight
Last night caused him to think of me all day today
He said
But I excuse myself from socializing
I drifted into smoke clouds
Welcoming lipsticked strangers
As I erase my face
Rebirth
Always flying into rebirth.

Mama scolds me for my obsession with you
As Philly girlfriends and I pontificate
I make it into art
I make us into art
Decay and shrubs surrounding me.

I think you get a kick of not answering me
Your face and voice flashing in my mind
Like edited footage
I put it aside
A faux fur stole
Lipsticked lips the 9 others avoid
I carry on
I didn't come here for you
I didn't come here for them

Cocooned in my own cocoon
I'll give you your gift tomorrow
Erasing my face.