Page after page,
Day after day,
And yet it makes no difference.
You can't rid yourself of your problems,
With just a pen and some ink,
At least not permanently.
So what does it really matter if I write,
No one really cares,
It wouldn't matter to me or to them.

Let's pull those knees close,
and think of childhood.
We were fragile beings of light.
Now we're heavy black glasshouses
throwing skipping rocks in the dark.
I wish I went to sleep-away camp,
like all the cool kids.
I could skip rocks,
and learn slip knots,
and maybe how to swim.
Sit by campfire
and tell scary stories,
and spill my first kiss
as the truth in a guts game.
"It was third grade.
She was a ******* girl-
and we wanted to practice
for our shared boy crush.
Baby tongues danced
and I just liked it more than I should have."
And then someone would
douse the flames
with a bucket of lake water,
to put an end to the horror.
Today she's having a baby,
and we haven't spoken
since grade school.
I wonder if she ever reads my poetry.
The kids would have teased me.
Or perhaps never believe me.
The holes keep getting bigger.
They let the light in from outside.
Let's let our knees go.

Even though my heart has been covered in dirt,
My spirit is full of sky.

what
make
the soul
feel
the sting of
darkness
in an
empty grave

You don't see me
i try harder and harder
for you to notice me
and then you do
and the feeling is gone

its only the chase
that is thrilling
the relationship
is dead
before it
even started

the chase is
the only realness
in love

so i give up
and give in
to the love
to the flowers
to the boy

The only one who really needs to care is you.

I didn't know
I was your puppet
On a string:

You tossed me
Turned me
Made me swoon
To your every word.

I didn't know
I was your puppet
Until you cut
The strings,
And I fell face-down
Into what I thought
Was love.