If we are not us
And  I am not me
Then what is it that either could be?
Having submerged myself into the deep
Leaving not a morsel for myself to keep
one plus one would never equal three
So I became one half of two
Forgetting my singularity
merged to a tether that never belonged to me
and without even a letter
had left and forgotten me
Leaving neither us to be us
Nor me to be me
Leaving both I and we without an identity

Your typical conceited bore,
Forgot what they’re searching for,
Everything becomes a chore,
Others’ pains don’t register anymore
Can’t resonate anymore
Can’t be held accountable anymore
Cause you can’t even see the shore
Anymore
Lock and bolt the door,
Pass out on the floor,
To dream of things which you adore
A mental sub-conscious war.

An artist too lazy to make any art
So what am I?
The sleepy commitment holding your hand in public places
An enormous gratitude lounging in between spaces with a stain on her shirt
Always seeking to be the next big thing

A stoic
Unable to process any other philosophy
that doesn't kiss me when I'm nervous
Lights turning on in the afternoon
And the warm glow of knowing people are inside
There
Ready to open up the door and invite you into the individual smells that occupy their reality

I am I-don't-remember-the-city-anymore girl
Sterile buildings and antiseptic coast
Are both memory and fiction
I am everything's-sort-of-familiar and yet exactly obscure
A contrarian careful to never admit that everything
Will make sense with enough persuasion
In the corners of my mind sits a woman
Smoothing out creases of my brain like the folds on bed sheets
Or the wrinkles in a shirt
And I allow her to because I love her
And I believe that what she does is affection
And maybe I'm right
Or maybe I'm wrong and I was never an artist
But something else entirely because that's so much easier

I hurted you, unwillingly...
I never meant that,
I love you with my all
Hurting you hurt me more
Than you could ever understand or feel...
I need you each and every moment
You know it very well
But still away from me..
You always say you care..
Then come to me now..
Leave your anger,
Leave your ego,
Just hold my hand..
I need you alot..
I love you never means it about only love..
I say this because you're something more for me than my life,
than my everything..
Please talk to me...
Forgive me sweet heart!!!
Forgive this fool girl!!!

the ivy grows upwards
clawing at a ceiling fan  
looking to catch a glimpse of movement
the dust collecting on the blades is only proof of it's constant use
propelling a back and forth lasso of breath and exhale

my body has grown since last summer
the color of my eye mimicking jars of honey on your favorite shelf
I used to seek out momentum, the tumult of a sweaty night or the ongoing pulse of crowded people in small houses laughing about the spilled wine on hardwood floors
I can't tell if I was ever that person or if she was a catalyst of boredom swamping my every decision-making unable to make one properly for myself

I want noise and quiet
gritting teeth but a perfect mouth
I can't help but think of all my bones when walking outside
keeping me upright and unbreakable if only a shadowy and milky illusion
those places in my mind keep collecting freckles of dust and the people I've left behind now have blurry faces and unrecognizable personalities
but where there was once melancholy for different times
there's only a dog pulling me forward as the ivy grows up

NOISE does unfair,
disturbs everywhere.
Even at workplace,
at home makes restless.
With only tortures and pains,
this noise makes no sense.

NOISE breaks focus,
annoys, irritates us.
Freezes our mind,
blowing noisy winds.
By giving only pains,
this noise makes no sense.

But,
NOISE of war,
shows end isn't far.
Noise of deads,
shows life's dark shades.
Showing our offense,
this noise makes sense.