He saw tesellations. I drew scribbled lines.

She chose him.

She chose him to be
A pertinent aspect
Of her forever
Full sum of forever.
He who had shown her
New songs to glitter her
Sweeping thoughts,
Green flowers to dust
Such thoughts.
So when she chose him,
really,
She chose herself
She who had become
Thought broom,
Greens,
Stony welcomer
Of new.

He'd changed her
In a manner
In which she liked,
The outcome
Worthy of self pride.
She chose
Songs
She chose
Leaves
She chose herself
Which
He'd made her become.
And why not stay with him-
The man who had
Coaxed out
Someone deeper, older within herself,
Someone who
She herself had been searching for.
This lazy thought
And that
Made her choose.
Him.
Because he was the leaves and
Nothing more.

I fly through life on autopilot
Do you think they'd ever realize?
I arrive and depart on time
The ground greets me no differently
With no knowledge of my vacancy

Calculation is a constant and lifeline
To connect me with my kind
Kind only in anatomy, general size,
The way we obey parallel lines.

Ground control, do you read me?

dissipated and disillusioned worms eating through the last splinters of the rotting universal wood.

the last transmission of regret sent electronically, spluttered,
into a tissue; in a moment of self indulgent *******.

live showings of vicious execution, transmitted directly from the electromagnetic waves into the alpha waves of the young and naive. Desensitization, the last drops of humanity into complete disengagement.

endlessly recycled bohemian ideologies whispered into the ear of the eager idealist. spreading like fire, before burning out into the uncatchable reverie up with the stars, with all the other reveries, shining bright, intangible.

Instant dismissal from the old man, as the big curtain draws. Cynicism and fragmented past, falling on apathetic eyes, a proud man treat with a padded hand. faux sympathetic tones, blushing cheeks on old bones.

Begging with your body crumbling to dust with the disinterested doc, looking at the clock counting the milliseconds to the paycheck. Decomposing until you can be swept under the perpetual rug with the rest, Vacuum.

I fell in love with a boy by the bayside whose mouth tasted like sour apples in a way i never thought so beautiful. And I'm sorry it was never you, you always tasted bitter and burned. But there's something you need to understand,that my existence has wracking side effects and scars on my skin are only a classroom of pain. Your tears always found a way in, and leaked onto my heart, playing a sad song about wishing wells and shooting stars and formed words on my tongue like four leaf clovers. And you still haven't apologized for emptying my lake of happiness and replacing it with rocks of sadness and filling my pockets with pebbles. A man once told me that anyone good for me would never hurt me. And i suddenly forgot that, when your eyes turned to icy corridors and your hands, tightened leather. I only wanted to melt away the emptiness in your irises and break away from the distraught grip. But didn't anyone ever tell you can't just set thing on fire because you like to watch ash float in the wind? You were always so wreckless. With my bleeding heart in your hands all you could mutter was, "I made a mess." All you could do was walk away with clenched fists leaving me on the ground trying to pick up shards of glass, ribbons of tears, and pieces of the moon; essentially you left me to salvage the pieces of myself. The truth is, you left me there in the dark. And i haven't emerged.

i don’t want to feel
like poetry
is a chore, like i’m
choosing to pour my thoughts
out of my head
instead of doing it
because i can’t
stop it from spilling.

can a person really
write a poem about
indifference? can i write
about how i’m sad
at my apathy?

i guess i’d give the gift away
for a life
of active living.

i think moving on
of any sort
means adding
potential moments, lost,
to the list of things you grieve
just every once
in a quiet while.

With you, it’s all mechanics.
Engineered reactions, if they register at all.
The gears never stop turning until
you ask me what do I want, and the
only thing I can think to say is
”Not you" so I say I’m unsure.
I lie, automatically. I’ve been
programmed to hide how I feel, but you’re
the engineer trying to fix me, to
rewire my intangible feelings.
I like to play with you, and lay with you.
But I can not see myself staying with you.
I care for you, about you, but I will never
fall in love with you. Your scent fills my nostrils
when we are together, but doesn’t linger
after we part. I want you to stay in my life, but
there is no special den for you in my heart.
My heart is heavy with the absence of passion,
the weight of the guilt bogs down my senses.
I lay lifeless, cold.