With a voice that fails me I aim at the lines between your hope and my despair With a needle, in an effort to achieve precision To stitch our thoughts together They’re so similar, so different You think of October as a warm home And I see it as a cold houseguest And we co-exist in this oblivion This circle of this or that I admire your willingness to fill spaces And you question my fear of being heard You relish in the colours of fall And I dread the looming winter How is it that we left September Hand-in-hand, wishing for rain...
When the weather changes and it's finally September I feel in love. When the breeze is cool everything is better I feel in love. When I can wear a beret or don a favorite coat I feel in love. & when I sit down and read something that you wrote I feel in love
my feelings are the splattered inks bold, italics threatening to spill weighing on every meaning words could carry scrambled up, juggled those who’ve yet to feel shall not speak and pray tell, words do you realize what you amount to? what’s behind was for a reason, a person clear as day, solid reverie what lies beneath shan’t remain between the lines and if it reaches you, we’re alike
Your birthday is soon The air is ashen Scented with burning leaves I ride this shaking yellow chariot without you Passing yellow-green crops and empty ditches It’s rather lonely, really You’ve finally gotten a car Though you don’t like it all too well It’s old and used But there's no need to worry It will take you where you need to go Your birthday is soon You’ll be an adult If you could truly call eighteen years an adult But I’m proud of you You’ve grown so much Even taller than me, now Maybe someday, you’ll love yourself as much as I love you I wish I could do the same for myself Soon, it will be my birthday as well I’ll be an adult But you know I’m still a child Small inside and immature Thinking about the childhood ripped away from you Of laughter and joyous grins The large hands of a father that gently grip little fingers The one we both deserved Your birthday is soon And we’re almost off to college And though you don’t believe you have a future I know you do With your graphite-stained palms You manifest entirely new worlds I find it beautiful And you take yourself for granted Your birthday is soon And as I write these words This terrible jostling machine slows to a stop Peeling my body from navy leather seats I dig out my keys I will head home Just like I always have
Slowly fall The teardrops of the rain, Slowly into the lake. Slowly comes September, As always, Slowly clasping its hands around us. Slowly the trees transform Into ghosts, Slowly the apples fall and rot, And the pumpkins, slowly too, Grow and mature.
Autumn comes slowly. We feel it in the Nights and in the wind Growing colder and colder. Slowly summer came and left. And now, We are left with what We always had, Not much: Two warm hearts Holding each other, Two minds content With time well spent, Despite the changing times, Despite September.
My throat is heavy with August’s sorrows I sit by the shore and wait for the weakest waves to drown my little feet — I stagger over them like a clumsy giant. But it’s seaborne sadness wraps, a constant, unrelenting embrace like a mother’s grief, a gentle creature’s death, a rabid dog feasting on a poor, meatless bone. I am alive — so cruelly alive for it all as it falls
down my throat, down my chest like a child’s pained whisper. My body is heavy with August’s weight as I retire to my filthy bed and hold myself.
Cold are the nights in their quiet, lackadaisical, taunting hours.
Come now, September. Come, kindly, if you please; sweep me away into a million, invisible dust particles suspended
i’m unplugging the month old box fan for the first time since i moved in september 22nd the first day of fall and im excited i was made for the slight breeze of the morning and the warmth right before the setting sun but like i said i’m unplugging the month old box fan since i took it out of its box when i moved into mine august 29th a midwestern summers peak when i truck back into the alley of a save a lot and the empty room i moved into it doesn’t really matter though cause it’s two in the morning of the morning after i shoved the first box fan i ever bought myself under the last bed my mother would ever force upon me and i’m getting upset about the rate at which the world keeps turning so maybe i’m sad because i haven’t seen my friends since i saw my broken box fan i had for four high school summers and didn’t have to purchase with my own barista money and i miss the way we’d understand the nonsense and sit too close together but it doesn’t matter cause yesterday way september 22nd. the first day of fall and i was excited and i am excited because i’m unplugging that month old box fan that drowns the quiet in an empty room alone at 2 in the morning