when times
turn to lines,
and we deform
through indigenous
degeneration-

we, as the ones
that had time stand
perfectly still
at midnight,
between the past
and the
upcoming,

gave in to the
sloth, the
gluttony, the
pride, the
wrath, the
lust, the
greed, the
envy,
and chose to
thrive
eternally,

on the
absurd.

on the absurd,
with the
cheeks and foreheads,
on the absurd
with the
black dresses, shirts
and smiles,
on the absurd,
with all its wobbling,
wishes
and hungover
mourning
in the
morning.

we gave ourselves up
to be groped by the force of time,
and time ended up
making love to us,
*******
majestically.

the table fills
with empty cups,
and we
dance
until
the cups topple,
lay a new,
crackling
plastic
carpet

underneath
our restless hearts
and
beating feet.

I stopped striving for the perfect year,
Because my concept of "perfection" was flawed.
I was chasing a scenario in which,
I could go a full rotation of the sun
without anything going astray,
All my dreams being fulfilled.

This search for perfection,
Was like looking at a window,
And being annoyed because
All I could see was a sheet of glass.

But, I decided to alter my desires;
Try to live single year in hopes of good autobiography.

Meaning;
To say yes more often.
And say no when needed.
To relish in successes.
And learn from mistakes.
To love without exception.
And to be kind without expectation.
To revel in every single wonderful moment as they come,
And not letting their fleeting nature feed the bitter parts of me.

Don't chase the perfect year.
Chase an amazing story.
Leave readers captivated.
And your grandkids bored-to-death.

hushed weeping ignored every time we scroll through our feeds.

broken souls lay in despair debating whether to keep breathing.

cries for help are screaming through tweets, photos, and posts.

only to go ignored, or sometimes even mocked.


for those fortunate enough to be pretty or extroverted
while you are surrounded by whom you call "friends."
taking pictures with these cute faces who will go home
only to talk about how ugly what you were wearing was.

for those who were alone over the holidays.

know this, you are not the only human alone.

the last three birthdays, Christmases, and NYE celebrations

have been solitary for me. it hurts. i cry. dark thoughts cloud me

there isn't anything anyone can say to make the feelings go.

extreme loneliness is when you don't desire to be alone.

don't let their smiles break your heart more.
don't allow the facade of their "friend's" fool you.
anyone can gather people and take an Instagram pic.
i want you to stay healthy, those people will be alone too.

if nothing else, i am always available to listen.

for i am part of the forgotten ones.

don't let that big heart that is breaking self-destruct.

We should be together, we shouldn't be acting like this. I blame it on the New Year's Eve kiss.
We were supposed to hang out today, but you went away when I mentioned the New Year's Eve kiss.
We are not dating, this I know, but we aren't just friends either, don't you know? Your making a huge huff about this its just a New Year's Eve kiss.
You're at your house and I'm at mine trying to keep myself from crying. I want this New Year's Eve kiss.

For some reason,
this is the one day of the year
where we place an immense amount
of pressure on ourselves
to have fun, to be social.
On Valentine’s Day,
you’re either with your partner
or you’re not.
On Christmas, you’re with family.
On your birthday, anything goes.
But on New Years,
you’re either out
having a blast or
you’re all
alone.

I grow tired of you hurting yourself with me.
You learn to hate me.
We don’t talk anymore.

My nightmares become fatal.

I stop responding because I don’t know how to answer, and I spend Christmas alone passing out wine-drunk to Naruto. I’m not sorry. My mother calls and I don’t know what to say, and neither does she. Then New Years Eve approaches like a dark cloud to water our crop, and wash away our debts,

but

my acquaintances want to have a fistfight, and I’m asked to be a witness in the police report [but I clearly remember nothing happening, through shades of alcohol].

I clearly remember at the beginning of the night I told you I don’t **** with cops.

Yet, now you’re surprised it makes me uncomfortable.

My daydreams grow immersive. My gameplay grows sloppy.
My reactions grow dull. My body grows weak.
This stranger tastes like cigarettes.
I don’t clearly remember the rest.

Red wine sets my insides on fire
I am filled with desire
My dreams take towards the sky
It makes me feel like I can fly

On New Year’s Eve, 2015,
I cheerily wrote you,
From the other side of the world:

“’Tomorrow is –
The first blank page
Of a 365-page book.’
Let’s make it meaningful!”

On New Year’s Eve, 2016,
I wholeheartedly write you,
From the same state:

“Thank you for joining –
The same cast,
In the same reality,
On the same paper;

Thank you for living –
The same words,
On the same page,
In the same chapter;

Thank you for wanting –
The same things,
With the same pace,
In the same manner;

Thank you for sharing –
The same story,
With the same close,
In the same series.”