We the people
Created the definition of insanity
Continuously birthing another thesis to "protect" all of humanity
Meaningless validation to destroy and mutilate such a beautiful creation in order to achieve an unreachable reflection
I hate to do this again and again
But this world has became a fantasy of pretend
We the people
Slaughtered the human race
We walk from point A to B
Motivated by revenge, trying to fill in an empty space
We the people
Are not people
We are skin that's been injected by something lethal
A combination of confusion and being "equal"
Why can't we just remain simple

If it wasn't almost 2016, I would call you on your house phone from my corded phone in my kitchen, we'd chat quickly as to not rack up my phone bill, we would make dinner plans and call it good.

But it is almost 2016 and I'm actually looking at your Facebook and your girlfriends Instagram and I'm laughing / crying over the gag worthy photos she has you featured in.

If it wasn't almost 2016, I wouldn't even know you had a girlfriend and I wouldn't have tried to save the poor girl from your ***** lying ways.

But it is almost 2016, and when Snapchat helped me find out you had a girlfriend while still trying to **** me, I DID try to save the poor girl from your ***** lying ways. You told me not to say anything more, but I had to stop this because I know the feeling of a heartbreak like the one you were about to cause her.

If it wasn't almost 2016, I wouldn't have access to every social media platform that allows me to see every single detail of your life. I wouldn't be driving myself crazy with questions and no answers.

But it is almost 2016, and I get to watch your life unfold with someone else and wonder why I came in last, still no answers.

If it wasn't almost 2016, forget tinder and my quirky bio with the 6 best photos I've ever taken, you'd call me on my corded phone because you actually knew IRL how fun and quirky I am and you'd already have seen me in all my green eyed, beautiful brunette glory.

It is almost 2016 and that means I am just another girl that you aren't looking for something serious with because you're a boy in his early 20s craving freedom. Instead you send me ***** text messages because you're a boy in his early 20s and you met me on Tinder. I am a girl in my early 20s and when you met me on Tinder, you assumed I wanted less than a relationship and a little more than a "hey how are you?" convo.

If it wasn't almost 2016, you wouldn't have detailed all the ways you would make me feel good because would you ever really say those things to my ******* face?

But it is almost 2016, and you didn't say any of those things to my ******* face, you said it beneath the unsolicited picture of you naked in your bathroom mirror and you even added that ******* emoji with the sunglasses, like what you were doing to me was actually super cool.

If it wasn't almost 2016, I wouldn't have known that you were feeding lies to me on a silver platter, I would have gorged myself on your tasty sweet nothings.

But it is almost 2016, and I am starving myself of something worthy and filling because I can't stop reading the tasty sweet nothings you are feeding her.

It is almost 2016 and I wish I could have said ******* to your two timing face instead of via text message.

*******, again and again and again.

Is a rather large
Group of mothers, criminals and
the forgotten victims

Close your eyes and imagine yourself falling,
Your aching bones rattle against the stone floor.

A cave on a cliff, ready to crumble.
Looking out to the sea of normality and order.
But how do you get there?

The lonely, cold cave, knowing there's more to this.
Hoping for that better life.
But how do you get there?

The deeper I wander, the darker it gets.
Losing sight of what could soon be, the water.
But how do I get there?

The middle generation, the confused generation,
A lonely generation, a hopeful generation.
I know how to get there.

Close your eyes and imagine yourself falling,
Your tired mind released into the reckless, rolling waves.

a thousand years from now exists
a world that thrums purely on the energies of nature.
a thousand years from now exists
a world whose stories you now
create.

too much

           too soon.

  



        She burnt the trees-
and spent the moon


                        now her little
                    life is full of gloom



    too much,

too soon.

at 12 and 37
you stumble through
a picture,
a picture of grief,
pain, sorrow, and death

at the same hour
they bumped into:
piles of joy, screams,
wild heart,
perfect timings

how are things possible?
in the blink of an eye,
it's there and then,
it's gone

you are broken,
you are healed,
you are relieved,
and you should be lucky.

We were born into a world of shallow minds and deep disturbances of young millennials mimicking mindless mimes because we were told to stay in line but be yourself but follow me but think "originality."

A generation full of copycatting individuals with monotone mindsets mulling over social ladders and trends dictated by invisible monarchs of industry inviting and spoon feeding insecurities masked as improvements.

A generation spending more time pretending not to care than on passions stifled by our peer pressuring playmates who are all prescribed Vyvanse, Adderall, Ritalin for their incurable imaginations deemed "learning disabilities."

A generation of temporary friendships because no one can connect with each other but we can connect to the internet and chat with strangers and share thoughts, photos, and secrets to a virtual audience that loses interest in an entanglement of wires forming a noose around our sincerity.

With an insatiable urge
For your walk
Chalk and Talk
You illumine the dark
With eternal spark.

Teacher, you torch bearer
You render meaning
To the gist of living
Burning and shining
A lighting candle
Every passing second
That does dwindle.

For posterity you pave way
Which is your sole pay!

Though poverty
Is attached
To your holy profession
Keep on building a nation!