Don’t you wish this feeling could last forever? You know, that feeling you get when things are going good, smooth sailing not a wave in the water to rock the boat. That smile that you want to just hide but you can’t? The feeling of accomplishment because today was just so fantastic you want the feeling to last a lifetime. It’s the feeling. What we strive for from beginning to end it’s all we ever wanted. But why do we encounter it less as we grow older? Do we grow out of feelings like we do our own clothes? One day we are at the peak of Everest the next it’s like we are looking for Atlantis. Sometimes it’s just nowhere to be found, other times it’s hidden in plain sight. We trade what we know and what we have to get a little taste of it. Whether temporary or impermanent we stop at nothing. Forever fades and loses its meaning physically and creates a whole new one for itself because of we; the people. Like a tv show on our favorite network it’s there only for so long then made into copies to be preserved in time, so why can’t we do that? Capture what little happiness we can obtain in a jar and save it for a rainy day? It would be too easy, everyone would do it, might even try to steal each other’s. Is our world sick now? Will we ever find a remedy for this ailment we create ourselves because of addictions and niches? How far will we go to be better than everyone at something that virtually has no meaning? What’s going to happen if we can’t be the best at our little something, ****? Nothing seems to add up anymore and I’m sick of it, I hate math. Unless we divide and conquer I think I’m outta here. World peace can never happen until we are all at peace within our own society.

Your words,
like silken tendrils,
crept along my skin,
Passing shivers flared,
Brushed off
with an uneasy smile,
Now these diaphanous strands  
threaten to mummify,
Encase me in a cocoon
of slights,
sarcasm,
and casual cruelty,
Liquifying my insides
to better feed you,
Bloat your predatory emptiness
with my life-force,
Your clacking mouthparts sharpen,
As does my resolve,
My innards are not for your
slurping,
Skitter back to your shadowy lair,
This corpse will not play,
I rise, awakened,
The sun waits for me.

I met a genius on the train
today
about 6 years old,
he sat beside me
and as the train
ran down along the coast
we came to the ocean
and then he looked at me
and said,
it's not pretty.

it was the first time I'd
realized
that.

Body and soul.

you made room for yourself at the back of my throat
(the place I had reserved for unfinished sentences)

A part of me always wanted to believe
That one day we could be friends
The good kind
When we'd talk on the phone
Go on lunch dates to chat about nothing
Help each other when we were in need
It's unfortunate
And crazy
How much one can be so wrong about a person
I was incorrect about you
We can't ever be friends
Your motives always seem to be rooted in something
That most certainly is not love