Flowers, diaries on the shelves
I wonder if they still are worth my while
Flowers, diaries on the shelves
The leaves that have gone dry by sitting there

Crisp under my feet
Amidst the thatch and thicket of words
Overhead the images of her lurk
In the pages of my diary now begging for a lover

Flowers in the bright fluorescence of eclipses tonight
Clasping the sunset, hoping the light never dies
As aging does to a venerable man
Shall my heart be left without a captain?

The pages have dust settled in them
Much like the crusted windows of a dingy inn
I had more than a crush by my teenage years
I was a victim once, until I let go of my fears

All my life's a stage, but I've played my part
Moaning the conviction I lacked from the start
Flowers, diaries on the shelves caked in dust
All that is alive tonight is the lust

Ever so often I get the urge to write
not about fun, love, or plight
but just about things that come to mind
things that just feel right
Inside and out
we are all the same
when it boils down to it
no one is innately a bad person
We all see, feel, and hurt
We all fall, jump, and laugh
We all dance
Even if it’s just secretly in our rooms alone
without it being known
Even if we’re bad at it
more than likely we are
and that’s half of what makes it so fun.

I want you for your voice is a quiet rumble,
a crackling fire's song.
And when you speak my fears, all crumble.
I cannot part from you for long.

I want you for your dark eyes are warm spring soil
nurturing pale first leaves.
Your personality for mine, a perfect foil,
each action meeting a secret need.

I want you for ******* you my dear, is essential;
it is part and parcel and key.
Do not think me un-sentimental;
for you mean all this and more to me.

You're each direction on my compass: North, South, East, and West.
You are where I find my laughter, my passion, and my rest.

Goodnight stars up in the sky

There you sleep, held so high

Every time you reappear

I whisper words, most sincere;

”I wonder what you’ve seen and know,

You do not die, and do not go.”

From upon your lofty throne,

The sights you must have come to known.

You’ve met my mother, sister, friend,

You’ve met us all, in the end.

Goodnight stars, up in the sky.

Dear stars, please reply.

I am silly and crazy
I wonder if I am delusional
I hear you are beautiful
I see angels floating in heaven
I want to make you mine
I am silly and crazy

I pretend I am invisible
I would like to hold your hands
I feel your heart beating
I touch my heart, it beats for you
I am silly and crazy

I say I will give you all you want
I dream that I will never lose you
I will try to take care of you
I hope I will make you happy
I am silly and crazy

Anxiety is an animal
Anxiety is a carnivorous beast
Anxiety grips onto you and doesn’t let go, digging its fangs in
Anxiety has painful fangs
Anxiety has claws (retractable)
Anxiety sits on the edge of a table, meowing morosely
Anxiety digs its claws in when it doesn’t want to do something
Anxiety reminds you it needs feeding
Anxiety hisses, bites and scratches
Anxiety eats ferociously, draining you.
Anxiety gives you disdainful looks
Anxiety reminds you it needs feeding
Anxiety has tiny fangs
Anxiety reminds you again it needs feeding
Anxiety looks down at you with its hairy body from the top shelf
Anxiety will sit with you, out of spite
Anxiety is only doing so to remind you he needs feeding
Anxiety might fall asleep
Anxiety might bite your hand while you fall asleep, he needs food
Anxiety is fed
Anxiety might possibly maybe if you-are-really-very-nice allow you to pet him.
Anxiety falls asleep
You fall asleep







Anxiety reminds you he needs feeding, loudly.

This poem’s not in
Iambic Pentameter,
It is a haiku.