Sounds dreams art form
In age norm- brainstorm
Wake -up alarm rainstorms
    Carmel Clouds
Barking noises and hounds
Chasing to be found
     Sandstorm

Monstrous- snowstorm

Dreams to heal
In uniform
Please no harm
love embraces  
Chasing the wrong faces

Gazing- engaging- singing
Dreams touch a nerve
Reacting jump ringing*
Chasing and saving
Memory of words
Wild child-hummingbirds

Floating in the air taps
No time like a normal nap
The cell phone pictures
and apps
Chasing big stir coffee sips
Valuable time trips
Chasing our dreams

Is real what it seems?
Lips* met* the *sunset
Eyes water love just met

Chasing- raging- event
Lullaby Lighthouse
Does your dreams make any sense?

These years, they ask us questions
answers that tomorrow never knows,
held in the arms of yesterday.
The weight of this dreaming
pushes the clouds onto the ground
and our fleeting conversations
with this flooding rain
breaks the boats we built
that were already too unfit
for this ocean between the clocks we build
and the time we chase

sitting in traffic staring
at a horizon of red
thinking of her unintentionally

i dyed my hair again
taking comfort in being able to look different
looking different than when i fell for people that were just shells
of bad decisions and ****
people that gave me goosebumps because they were so cold
but i used to mistake the chills for butterflies

i've been worried about repeating myself
cycling around my bad habits
like i'm on a ferris wheel that doubles as a perpetual motion machine
but i haven't texted her in a few weeks so
that must be a good sign
still

i listen the playlists i made when i was so busy over thinking i didn't have time to do my fvcking laundry
i wore her sweater for days on end and i hummed those songs under my breath
and now the melodies just remind me of how starving i was
laying in the bed of nails i made for myself
and they remind me of her. always her. and how she never gave a **** about me, but somehow taught me to give a **** about myself.
these stupid, beautiful songs remind me of how much i pretend to hate her. and they make me want to write poems about the idea of her again
even though i swore i wouldn't. on several occasions.
and so this poem isn't about her, or the idea of her, or the stupid playlists i was obsessed with when i called her mine

this one is about the horizon of red
as i sit stuck in traffic, staring
blurring my vision on purpose
as the crimson lights move at the speed of my slowing heart
trying. trying. trying.
trying to forget about her, as i think of her unintentionally.
trying to live in a world where people don't always mean the 'i love you's that so carelessly drip from their open mouths.
trying to care about those people anyway and pretend that i don't.
trying to love.
trying to love myself.
trying to write more poems in the first person as a form of self care.
trying to figure out if that counts.

trying to not be so fvcking lonly all the time.

Chasing silly fantasies,
Fallacies,
Impossibilities,
Left throbbing bruises on my feet,
Scrapes on my knees,
Blood in my teeth.

Chasing rotten stupid lies,
Starry skies,
Moonlit eyes,
Left stinging scratches in my thighs,
Pain in my side,
Aches in my mind.

Chasing love, chasing you-
The attitude,
The untied shoes,
Left nothing for me but the yearning for you.

There's a reason we don't normally walk backwards. Train yourself, focus on what's ahead of you and take action.