~
Sleep, no sleep
No making plans
New bed linens eat my dreamland
And settle in the wilderness of my ever-opened eyes

I see you
I see me
I see everything
I'm a play with no final curtain
The story continues unabated
And the ridiculing light of day
Is as sacrosanct as an unused blanket
Nonetheless, I'm checking in
Sleep, O sleep, swallow me
~

They're all just so sad and broken in their own ways
     And they have flocked to each other because together,
              The suffering feels smaller
                   Not so big
                       Not so daunting
                             And to them,
                                     I'm the deep pool
                                           where they can pour their pain into
                                                And never have to think of the possibility
                                                  Of
                                               a
                                     flood
                                   And
                         I
                 Am
Drowning

Stop leaving hints.
I get them;
I just don't reply anymore.

I guess it's because you claim everything
in that last message you sent
was a lie.

If that's true,
it means you won't always
be there if I need you,
and that I was never as important to you
as you said I was.

I guess what I'm trying to say is, please
stop leaving the little hints.
Show me that you've moved on.
Prove to me that I never cross your mind
anymore,
that you're completely over me.

Just get out of my life.

(An exercise to write a sonnet in iambic pentameter)

With heavy heart, I offer my remorse,
for I'm too tired to dance this weary eve.
The echoes of my workday's tireless chores
linger, leaving naught but fatigue's relief.

Oh, believe me, I hate to disappoint,
for the music tempts me to sway and dance.
But the hours I've toiled, each task and each point,
have drained me to a tired nudnik, perchance.

My spirit, once bright, now longs for respite,
to find solace in rest and heal my self.
Though my love for dance burns hot like cordite,
exhaustion demands I stay on the shelf.

Forgive me, my friend, tonight I must rest,
but once refreshed, we’ll fete and dance with zest.

it's thick and makes my head hurt
torn between sleeping it off knowing that never works
repeating feels like peeling slowly
the burning never gets easier
i can see myself spiraling
nobody should catch me
why do i hate spinning but don't put my feet down

i am content with being away from you
lost on my own continent
stranded on an island
your words seep through my skin
hurting like knives and shards of china glass

i am content with being away from you—from this, from us
i am content to hide inside a seashell and never come out
melted bones into hermit crab forms
fate accepted

i am content with being away from you—from the way you treat me
it is halloween in my nightmares
always dressed up as a princess or a queen when really all i feel inside is that i should be a
vampire or a zombie
meandering along the path of self-destruction

i am content with being away from you—from your fangs, from your grimy hands
i am content with staying put on an ocean raft just rising and falling as the waves swallow me up and spit me back up
selflessly free as a turtle riding the inevitable current

i am content with being a person far far away from you
making my own decisions with a smile gleaming on my face
waking up and walking outside on my own accord
listening to the sound of morning doves instead of the chaotic sound of sirens

i am content with myself—content with the life that doesn’t have you in it
gritty sandy harsh words grating against my smooth and vibrant skin
you will not give me heatstroke from the flames you breathe from the fire congested city
the tides will carry you, sandstorms will bury you, and tornadoes will whisk you away
far far from the whereabouts where i call home

i am content to be away from you.
i am content to be alone.