it's a fair thing when the air dreams
the windows tell me so
it's time again
to leave what we've got
while thought is deep and white and slow

so hunker down and enjoy the now
with a warm spot in the bed
tonight will pass
and tomorrow will shine
but for now we'll sleep instead

Comfort belies madness
in these white walls
clean sheets
warm water streams—
At night, I fall through
a foam mattress
into subconsciousness so
bleak black broken
like home like
past like
all.

Usually I hide away
Deep within my shell
I'm safe

Usually I just obey
Ignorance, I sell
I'm sound

Usually I do not say
And I dare not tell
I'm silent

Somehow, unlike anyone else
*You make me comfortable
When I'm vulnerable

It came to end
Suppose you could say
Delivered by friend
In a delicate way
No harsh intent
Or gloating prowess
Just time well spent
And heartache suppressed
I've fallen before
And quickly back up
Today, I'll be on the floor
Eyes shut, without interrupt

My textbooks, propped between our knees,
I study how this became
our hot dates and the way I get to lean
on your chest makes me tingly,
shallow-breathed,
but I shift around
so you don’t feel my heart bumping in
between the stillness
of our bodies.

—stillness—

We lay in the same bed and actually sleep;
no squeezing fingers and searching
mouths, but at least our clothes stay on
and I don’t have to search for my nightgown
shoved under wrinkled
sheets, or worry
about ****** wrappers
stuck to my skin.

Finished with our club meetings
and fundraisers, we act like weekend
warriors, clinking bottles in half-lit
rooms, sliding around, laughing
in each other’s faces
and once we’ve smoked our stress
away, I place your hand
under the ruffles of my skirt and kiss
your neck, whispering
                                 I want you
Please touch me
                  I need you
but you put your lips
to my forehead, mumbling
that you’re tired and won’t keep it up
because you’re strung out
on Red Bull and Adderall, promising
we will tomorrow night.

Sometimes I fear
I have become too good at
being alone.

I basque in the hours
spent locked by my
lonesome in the confines
of my apartment,
surrounded by nothing but
brick and cement and the sounds
of the television or my iPod speaker.
Tranquility seeping in through my
isolation,
I yearn for the moments I am
privileged to spend without
the duty to perpetuate conversations
or offer advice to someone I consider
merely an acquaintance.

Sometimes I worry I am
too comfortable with solitude.

I get a thrill off of
being needed without needing,
being sought out without seeking.
I let others let me in
without having to give a shred of
myself in return,
for people love to go on
about themselves
without inquiring about
the person to whom they
narrate their autobiographies.

Sometimes I am scared of
the ease with which I can
let someone go.

So often have people come and gone
that now I comprehend, perhaps
too deeply,
that nothing in life is guaranteed
and most people are meant to be
lessons rather than
permanent.
There was a time where I wept
with sordid frequency for the people
I was forced relinquish,
clinging tightly to the empty void,
wallowing in a glass half full of
skewed memories.

Sometimes I am terrified that
I only really know how to
be alone.

It is almost impossible for me
to recall a love not
unrequited.
I stare up at screens and strangers
all screaming that love exists,
and there I am fighting
insane laughter because I just
can't see it,
as if my eyes have become colorblind,
for it is black and white that
all I've ever had is
gray.

Sometimes
I am afraid
that this is
Always
how it will be.

I am not a door mat.

You can’t just come in and out whenever you please, stepping all over me as you do so.

"Welcome home."

A home is supposed to be comfortable, and that is one thing I am not, and so you are no longer welcome.

My door is shut, locked twice, chain and ****, tight as ever.

Nothing is getting in, so you can stop banging and yelling.

Although this is the most emotion I’ve seen you express in God knows how long, and you look so handsome through the peephole.

You knock so hard it almost feels like the wood is going to crack under your fist, but I built it to endure even the most powerful storms.

I’ve created floods stronger than your knuckles, earthquakes with my wails and hurricanes with my spinning, swirling mind.

You think you can break me, but you can’t, because I’ve already tried.

And trust me when I say, no one wants to destroy me more than I do.

Egos are false, they fail you, let you down.
Kick you over, leave you thinking you're better than someone else
Egos are not true, we are all equals, all equally important

Low self esteem is the same in many ways, it lets you down.
Kicks you while you're down, leaves you thinking someone else is better
Your insecurities are not true, we are all important, as well as you.

The only thing left is to be self aware and to know who you are
Become comfortable with yourself, and love yourself
And love everyone around you, including your enemies