aren't you scared of what you might find
behind a short hallway and a closed bedroom door;
where the kids have red on their foreheads and staples in their hands?

they don't know any better.

do you know of that time where the sun has just set,
you're home alone,
and can't keep occupied.
it's only 6pm
or 7pm or 8pm
but you feel so tired:
you're eyes are fighting to not give in to just a wink.
well my vision is faded and blurry and i don't know why.

it's eating me alive,
i can't shut down.
i'm more awake than ever.
did you know? i can't hold on anymore.
"it hasn't even started" they say,
but i want it to be over already.

we
       both
know
       that
within
        time,
you will finally
                     lose that
blue
       look of yours
              and have a smile
         on your face
that looks a lot like
        mine.

all my friends hate me


this isn't a poem
this is a sign up sheet for a friend.

x.

there's an angry voice inside of me
i need to write down
and let loose.
but it only comes out as a whisper.

i use the things i won't do,
like death,
to inspire me for things i try to do,
like being alive.

there's a whisper i hear
and i don't think anyone around me can
but it's telling me i should stay for the aftermath of the storm.

now,
i'm not one to take advice from a stranger
but this one has a smirk on her face
and a lighter in one hand.
fires don't usually last in pouring rain
but for some reason
i see it in her eyes instead;

i also see letters on her forehead spelling your name.

the sun pays no attention to the burning heat
and the moon couldn't care less to the dark and cold nights that should be spent on sleeping and dreaming.
but as the days twist and turn
i can see where land and sky meet:
on the horizon where everyone lay dead.

twist and turn it again and you'll see yourself in a blurred mess from then
in the same hollowed out face to full.

twist and turn once more:
and you won't like what you see