I’ve lost my ambition to work
I’ve lost my ambition to think
I stare at a screen and follow links
I have forgotten how to blink
I have forgotten how to network
                                                   IRL

Until the sun has crossed the zenith,
I would like to wander, across and beneeth, the mountains, or perhaps simply a valley, if the weather is blissful and kind once more,
I want to read the scripture, given to me and study it without bore,
Perhaps tea would suit me well, maybe I will remain lazy as I dwell,
I want to feel the gentle breeze of the spring getting lost in daydreams
Maybe a shining barrage will be fine, oh no it would be a crime, getting lost in unfulfillable fantasies which bring glee, wonderfully,
I want to eat some cake, discussing astronomy, the beauty of space,
Oh how beautiful it would be, to see your joyful, sweet gaze during it

What I desire might sound extra ordinary, but worry not my dear,
Because you know, I live in fear, isolation and akwardness here,
I make all these plans, yet in the end, none will be fulfilled, you hear?
After all, I got no friends to talk to, but reading should be very fun,
And I might not be too lazy to walk alone if it is under the sun,
But do not worry about me, no one does, I am just me,
A sea of love with no one to be

~ Umi

I don't feel safe,
as though a predator has found
the combination to my comfort zone,
and now has unlocked it,
and is stealing my peace of mind.
"Please stop," I plead.

My arms are shaking, my hangover
is bigger than Trump's Wall.
The same blocked number appears and reappears
, then repeats on my phone screen.
I had to block you on my Gmail (Is that even a thing?).
Tinder used to be for fun,
and now I have contracted a haunting for five lifetimes.

My old friends do not want to speak to me.
I understand their worries, finally,
and I hope it's not too late to listen.
But your screeching voice is deafening
and it's hurting my sanity.

I'm sitting on my soft couch,
writing this poem,
and my fingers tremble as I write.
Because I don't even feel safe in my own house.
Once upon a time,
I thought we would say the "I dos."
Now, all I want is whiskey until I reach oblivion.

IRL is the steepest road to travel on,
but I chose a shortcut,
and now I have fallen off and into a descent
into a madness that Ginsberg has only whispered about
during smoke breaks at the temple building.
Quitting to smoke cigarettes is easier
than dealing with your stab-wounds of sentences.

Like my FaceBook Status,
if you've ever felt violated and controlled
by an old flame.
Then grab a fire extinguisher,
press the lever,
and put out the conflagration,
before it burns your life away.

-Andy

I need a teacher
to tell me that I'm great
at this writing thing
who will give me constructive criticism
and As
and gold stars or something

Or I at least need a teacher
to tell me that I'm terrible
and should revise
and demand more of myself
and hit the delete button
and do something else with my life

But now that I'm the teacher--
...how do I get better?

The girl that everyone knows
is the same girl that no one knows
Behind a perfect smile
is really a frown
Behind her makeup
are only bags for no sleep
She is just another fake girl
In a fake world

You* saved me as I was slipping
From the dark embrace that came once again.
You gave me a reason
Not to see the scarlet lines.
You wiped away the secret tears
That were dripping down my face.

You saved me as I gave up,
Slowly not caring about anything.
You helped me see the light
When I was lost in the dark.
You asked if I was okay.
I said I was fine.
I finally didn't have to lie.

Thank *You