another day another wallowing moment
in this unfamiliar skin
searching for the component
that feels missing deep within

another hour another feeling
how they change so quickly
my back tied to the ceiling
lack of control making my stomach feel sickly

another minute another headache
come and go in a blink
I pray that they stop for my sake
too tired to even think

another second another toll
on my head filled with words
needing something plentiful for the soul
ears longing for the sweet tunes of songbirds

the pain beneath my eyes
showing the purple and blue taint
my mind up till sunrise
wearing my exhaustion like a canvas wears paint


© L.F.

Four hours is a funny thing.
In four hours,
I can earn 48 dollars,
or I can shower and make breakfast
while flipping through the pages
of old books
and sipping my bitter coffee.
Four hours...
I suppose some could
save a life or maybe the world
in four hours.
But I cannot.

I can make 48 dollars,
or I can stare at the ceiling
and maybe think big thoughts
and not do much of anything
in four hours.

I know She exists
Somewhere, waiting for me
Her eyes as beautiful as the night sky
The image of Her taunting my brain

We’ll meet with a feeling of uncertainty
Clumsy fumbling of words
Heart racing beauty
I know She exists

She’ll cherish all my flaws
And still look inside
Seeing nothing special
But a boy with teary eyes

She will be there to wipe my tears
Along with fear and sadness
Her hands as soft as silk
I know She exists

I saw you the second you entered the room
Not that I was watching there just wasn't much else going on
My heart flutters a little cause seeing you is like coming home
And I smile
Four hours to go

You finally enter and I don't think you see me due to sheer distance
Your laughing and well
It brings back memories
I glance over to you from time to time
Same quirky boy I loved
Three hours to go

By now I'm sure you've seen me
But you didn't say hello
Something feels horribly wrong  
I can feel your eyes on me when I turn my back
But otherwise it's like I don't even exist
Two hours to go

I give up
You're not going to see me
Not the way you used to anyways
And part of me understands
But part of me wants to grab you buy the shoulders  
Bring you back to reality
One hour to go

I watch you walk out the door
Too afraid to approach you
And I know you will never approach me
I can't quite put my finger on it
But I feel so sad
Zero hours to go

Today marks 133,920 minutes and
the answer still isn’t clear.
Unfortunately, it never will be
because poetry doesn’t have one.

No rhyme or structure
nor 14 stanza song
can make it easier to
solve this meddling art.

Only 336 hours to go
maybe you’ve got an idea for
what all the math in this poem
actually signifies or -

The message it might have
and the meaning rooted in
this 23-year-old brain
who is struggling as well.

Still, after 106 days
when the final day is here
we’ll all scratch our heads with a shrug,
and say, poetry is never clear.

Breathing empty air just to pass time
Sometimes scribble on the wall I am stuck behind
I am ready to break through thick bricks
They are a mess of emotions mixed
Prefer to sit idly as they fall one by one
They are stacking up and there's nowhere to run
Each piece of my heart tumbles down
A multitude of building blocks scattered all around

Clinging to seconds when
      There where hours that
                  Flew by.

But we never
        Caught that flight.
Instead we looked
out the window
            counting the seconds.

Every moment counts..
      Don't let anything
Fly by,
          catch every breath as
                     They never fly forever.