Waking up
To the sound of ticking clock

Who likes that sound?
That sound of you aging
That sound of nightmares
Sound of pain being drilled to your chest

A-ha! Boiled egg and HCN(l) as breakfast
Hey, hey, tell me what do you have,
What do you have? Heartache? Heartache?
Heartache?

Recall those nights you woke up
With massive headache
And forgotten nightmare

Humans are like flowers
Beautiful yet easily wither

Then I'd like to be dried
Between the pages of your favorite book

Forget me not
Remember
Remember me as the one
Who lived.

I am not what I am,
Nor am I what people say I am.

I am a locked box,
Full of things I cannot share.
I am sly as a fox,
Often portraying that I do not care.

But this of course is untrue.
What do I desire?
You and your unyielding fire.
And yet I can never seem to tell you.

Who am I?
I am the unknown.

Seasons change by month
I change day by day each year
Seasons stay the same

I could light a fire
to the things
I've grown tired of and leave,
of no commitment,
regret,
nor need.

I catch a glimpse of my / utopia in your scintillating eyes / I sense peace in your touch / and hear salvage in the beating of your heart under my ear / perhaps I am too idealistic about the perhaps of us although / I have nothing but sour memories and / skeletons in my overflowing bedroom closet / I cling to the possibility there is / some decent people out there / I have brought proper weapons to this war / my heart has back up this time / I refuse to be hurt anymore

There is sea salt all over my hands, and I know I'm not the ocean.
So let's drink tea out of mason jars,
with cold porcelain shards instead of ice,
and let's cut our mouths on every argument we've ever had.
I hope you don't mind if I make a home out of you,
and I'm sorry if my spirit doesn't fit so well inside of yours, you see
I have been carrying dead weight with me like a terminated pregnancy,
and mourning the emptiness inside of me like a miscarriage.
Now it seems like I'm only giving birth
to the sorrow that my heart cannot hold.
Now I'm starting my mid-life crisis early, stating over, starting with you.
I'm writing my past into the sand, waiting for the tide to clean my slate.
So just wait a little but while I hold my breath hostage,
and I will wait for a ransom to come,
and I will pray that it doesn't come barreling down my door, looking like you.

I wish we could forget.
Forget all the things we never wanted to remember.
If the past is in the past, why do we still remember,
remember how it felt?
How it all felt.
One day we forget
but the next,
All of the feelings hit us again.
Every stab in the back and
every broken heart.
Why can't we forever forget?

- S.S.