i'm in love with the way
we all crowd around each other
in flatteringly-lit places
with four walls
overpriced drinks
and some dark noise
as we keep to ourselves mostly
in groups of one or three

being social

but sometimes
you look into someone's lined eyes accidentally,
strangers,
as if to say 'save me, please. are you it? please be it.'
no one ever is
quite
it

then, we look away intensely at the floor,
or pick up an ash tray that is suddenly so interesting,
or ask to *** a cig
or something stupid.

as the night rolls into itself
and you find yourself alone in your unmade bed
again
to conclude yet another day,
now that you're so tired of
conclusions.

and nothing is quite
it

I have so many words
crammed inside my head
words on words
no pattern
just words
a disjointed jumble.
As I shove them out
of my head
onto paper
more appear
faster than I can write.
My words
borrowed words
words of geniuses
words of drunks.
Someone once told me
words are powerful
if you know how to use them
but I don't
so I have no power
just a crowded head
filled with disjointed
words.

Have you ever felt alone in a crowd of people?
Well I'm here and I can't quite make out the sounds
Faces rush around me, I can't catch a glimpse
Everything's moving so fast, and here I am so still
I blink my eyes, and everything changes
Oh where did this feeling of longing grow from?
It's like I'm moving in slow motion
I try to move one foot in front of the other
I look from side to side
Is anyone there? Can anyone hear me?*
Trying to catch a glimpse of the one who might save me
But all I see is blank glances, dead eyes
There's no one there, there never was
Just me and my shallow, empty heart

Her hands clinged around the pencil,
as if it were the last thing she'd touch.

Her head cleared in spite of the noise,
thinking only of the boy she loved.

As the noise began to rise,
her head began to grow.
And the gardens she used to plant,
rapidly began to glow

Imagination, such a scary place to hide,
in a room of introverts, secrets, and kids who want to die.

A crowded room, a pencil and wind that struck so coldly,
how could one ever be around people yet still feel so lonely?

I've walked into a tunnel.
Following coats,
Dragging behind in
Abandon
The light is slitted
The shape above is
Too Close to my head.
The sharp,
Undecided angles bother me
And a nervous twitch begins.

I imagine it like a funnel,
Sorting population
To pass through in
Close quarters,
Contact guaranteed.

I sneeze
And cough.
My fever smolders
Making my skin chill,
And the thought of disease
Enters, and crowds with me,
Suffocating me to one side-
But not too close-
Don't touch anything.
Fear grows.
I am already sick
But I could get sicker.

Conspiracy drips over my thoughts,
My fever leaving the
normal functioning funnel
In my mind
To be burned away-
materializing in the city-
Around me.
My thoughts bunch
In clusters
And pass all at once,
Leaving waves of nausea
And claustrophobia
As I continue through the tunnel,
Paranoia worsening my symptoms
By the step.