Happy pumpkin spice latte season!

Someone said the leaves had turned
to butterscotch, banana, and lemon
but they don’t taste right.

rain fell, in leaps and bounds
and you dissolved with the last of summer days

Summer fills me with nostalgia in a way that I cant explain. But when the air hears up and the black ants crawl all over our house I find myself remembering when we covered the window with sheets so we could sleep when it was still light.

Most years I was alone, friends not good enough to contact outside of school.
I stayed up late in bed reading every night. It was during summer that I stumbled on my first podcast, on my first ****** novel, on my first question of gender.
In the heat of summer I sought change. Alone, I struggled with questions of college and career and the future. I despaired, sobbing into my pillow until I fell asleep.

Summer is full of possibility, of the past, of the future.
I caught fireflies out on the lawn, I put cicada husks in a jar and kept a tally, I invented games for myself and my sisters. I work late nights and come home to a warm house. I eat cereal for 3 meals a day.
The rules don't apply to Summer.

noon bell
for rain of pinks
old stereo

Intuition at it's finest when feeling the seasonal changing of its metamorphosis is coming ahead. A foreseeing truthful measure of action (over the wonder of its own inevitable evolution).

Every year,
Like autumn leaves I shed my friends off these twiggy bones
Because they grow too tired

Every year,
This depression it addicts me, a cycle Id rather forget
But it keeps me guessing

One of these years,
I will be found dead, hanging from our garage.
I’ll lay a tarp, I’ve written my will, it’s all put together.

Because every year,
they give up on me just like the years before
I isolate all the same.

Maybe some year,
They can reach out, and see through all my fog
I swear im not boring, just scratch my surface
You’ll see

This year,
I’ll live, to tell the tale, of losing my seasonal friends
But next who knows, I might be alone
I’ll write you when I’m gone.

I am.
I am a cold, crisp autumn field.
I am a plush scarf in the breeze,
I am omnipresent, and yet never near.
I am a crackling fire in a winter freeze.
I am crumbling, cold, and free.
I am encumbered by the slush and snow.
I am waiting toe-to-toe.
You have seen me,
slouched, burdened, fatigued by the stress of the day,
waiting in the back of the bus bay.
I am all, and I am more.

Our last Christmas as a family
the day I'll always reminisce
they robbed you of your innocence
there's so many things i always miss

Our last Christmas as a family
before the drugs took you away
I saw the way you smiled
I wish i had screamed at you and said

Our last Christmas as a family
was the best we will ever get
as i know your still abusing
you're too difficult to forget

Our last Christmas as a family
i saw the look inside your eyes
i saw the future of the pain
they had already taken over your life

Our last Christmas as a family
i held you in my arms tight
for if you knew the pain i was in
would you have put up a harder fight?