I feel scared when
I am alone in the middle of a crowd,
Which is almost always.
I feel irked when
The music is much too loud,
While the night won't irritate me.
I feel flared when
Someone abuses the language and are proud,
Which is also an insult to themselves.
I feel terrorized when
They proclaim that there's no one but Al,
Not to mention the time of their loudspeakers.

i.
we both want to get rid of our last names.
maybe that was a sign.

ii.
we always talked about faking our deaths together
curled up on your couch when everyone was
sleeping. i hope you remember what my desperation
tasted like. at midnight i had to go.
like cinderella. but it was wintertime and the pumpkins
were moldy. you never came to my door with a shoe or a question.
maybe that was a sign.

iii.
you chased after her when i was sitting patiently at your feet.
she was joking about an anime i hadn't watched
and you got mad. the joking mad that makes you laugh until
you're red. the way you never got with me. maybe
scared that i'd run. the way you did after her. i know i shouldn't be
jealous, but.
maybe that was a sign.

iv.
i asked you what flavour i would be and you said
raspberry. i never tasted them the same again. you didn't ask me
to tell  you which you'd be, but i told you mango anyway.
who ever heard of a raspberry mango smoothie? one day i
made one. just to see what we tasted like. i could only pick out the
raspberries.
maybe that was a sign.

v.
you got a tarot reading from someone else. i tried not to be hurt, but you never wanted one from me. i was too cut up to ever
ask you why.
you told me what your cards said, and none of them were about me. i guess it's selfish.
but mine are always about you. god, do you even know
how much you break me? i must be addicted to it
because i stay. i stay and stay and stay
even when you get another tarot reading from her.
maybe that was a sign.

vi.
i always texted first. always.
maybe that was a sign.

vii.
i'm the one writing all these poems about you. like we're broken up. you never said the words, and neither did i.
but i'll never forget what the moon told me late that night
when you didn't linger at my door. half past midnight.
i try not to read too much into it, but.
maybe it was a sign.

There’s something for everyone here in this world of ours
and all that anyone really has to do is to put in the hours.
So as to get whatever they may desire or perhaps wish to be;
it’s the same for those who in their efforts try to become free.
______

Trains pass by
Hiding bombs
Waiting to kiss the sky
Of the blue hours
I've been drowning in.

Another pill passing lips
From broken fingertips.
I wonder why my hands died
Before the rest of me could.

Empty monsters
Fill up attics
With my dead friends.

They walk past

Poems

Laughter and

Love

Just as empty by the end
As they were at the start.

So far
Nobody good
Has mentioned
My dead hands.

The drunken ghosts
Whispering to walls
Still blame me
For your death.

And my beauty is blurred
By my dead hands.
And my chest is bruised
By your young death.

And my glass philosophy
Has begun to shatter
Under the light
Of the blue hours
I've been drowning in.