I look at you
you glance up
I look away

I glance up
you're looking at me
I glace away

This little dance,
Our peeks and glances
It continues on

I hope you
are braver
than me.

let me tell you the story
of the girl who laced cigarettes
with the taste of coffee
the girl who stained tissue napkins with sappy phonetics
and the guy who knew nothing of the sort

she carved heartbreak on the surface of her wrists
and broke silence with unessential questions
she wore her wounds in a tight braid
and carried her worries on the pages of a paper-back book
she described her mind as retired
from all the wars she has won and lost
she exclaims sighs of relief
and stands by the neutrality of her hopeless idealism

on the other side of the universe, however

there exists
the personification of oblivion
he betrays his race with an unrecognized voice
and words misunderstood by his own kind
he returns to his world for temporary release
of what
he is still unsure of
and yet
he is certain of the presence of sadness
he masks his isolation with a facade of self-accompaniment
and satisfies his inner desires with empty seats
he covers up his chapters with bottles of prohibition
and mystifies the tables with ashes of past regret
he sings about tomorrow as if it holds a promise
a promise of better days to come
he has gone from mountain to mountain
in hopes of a brighter view of the sun
but amidst all his travels,
he is yet to be blinded by the brightest of flames

and so,
he appears to be void
of reason
of worth
of a sense of purpose
of plans of the future

and maybe this is where the story ends.

with both their hands shaking from an overdose
with momentary glances of unread excerpts of themselves
with the unspoken truths
and with held-back melodies of lyrics still unknown
with curses of similarities
and vows of their difference
with her,
believing she already knows too much
and with him,
thinking she is yet to know more

or maybe I was wrong.

because maybe,
just maybe,

this is where the story begins.

I’m not going to compare what we had to a tombstone
because there, you would have at least left me some form of goodbye
Something to re-read when I needed a reason to why I couldn’t find you
Where our love use to be
Hidden in the folds of my sheets; Under my porch light at 2 am
Anywhere and everywhere I've been has always been you
I can’t see the sun without pretending the warmth is from you
But at night I feel the coldness tearing away at my skin and it feels like honesty
Laying alone in my bed is like laying with a stranger or a dead carcass
I guess both can be the same  
But if I were to compare what we had to a tombstone
it would be for the reason I can’t see you anymore
Without imagining you under it
At least then I could pretend you left those words for me to find
Where our love use to be
Or never was

sugar is bad for you
especially sugary thoughts
you cannot afford

like June is majestic
undulating ozone
from cumulus bones
in its flesh of light blue
masquerading airborne
around the skin
that breathes with beats
progressively arrhythmic
high from the feeling

but beware
for June hides its predators
beneath those waves
elating charm, its Siren song;
Because deadlines,
blood thirsty words
like “expiration”,“elapsing”,
and “due in”,
lurk with sharpened teeth
stalking the smallest of joy-fish

And all of this contrast
is masked with such skill
it remains underrated,
only frustrating to Juners,
for they know its extremes
and how smiles
cover anxiety

A broken clock is right twice a day, but there is no time
at which a broken windshield is useful. In my peripheral
vision, the cracks could be lightning, but Minneapolis
is not as interested in drama as I am. Somewhere, not here,

it is raining. It would be great if it would rain on me
because then there would be a reason I felt like garbage
right now. There's always of course, a reason, but it would be
nice to say It's raining in my head rather than

I have a chemical inbalance in my brain or I just remembered
that someone I love will die before I do. All of downtown
is underneath the sky. If you spend

long enough in one place you will eventually be hit
by lightning. Because it's not real lightning
we're discussing here, stay longer and you will
be hit twice. Never move, ever. You might go somewhere

there us no lightning. It might not rain there at all.