The typical person—
Strives to become better and good
Will always see that they have some advantage in the matter
Enjoys art, in some form (the species-specific expression of humanity)
Seeks comfort, and pleasure in its way,
Seeks love, a bare necessity for flourishing survival
Gives love, by instinct, causation, or personal values
Would give much to have the answers to everything and all
Still, in the exhaustion of panic unearthed,
Constricted chest muscles, proverbial blanching ache
And anguishing doubt
Just them same—
We will only partake
In beliefs without pain

tell me why it's been two years and my heart still hasn't caught up with my head. it beats so fast i'm surprised i'm not dead and i can't decide if it stops or beats faster when  i hear your voice at 4am. the sunrise still looks just like the colors in your left eye and the only difference is that the sun goes away at night but you stay awake in my thoughts. everything reminds me that we could actually be something real and the worst part is that it's up to me but my heart isn't strong enough to take that risk a second time or should i say a fifth or sixth or seventh time. then again maybe you never left in the first place. maybe my heart isn't behind, but my head is just too far forward to be able to see what it's passing up. maybe you've been here the whole time.

how terribly dull
what pitiful fools
who can't think for themselves
and abide all the rules

how wonderfully clever
and unequal in measure
are those brave few who dissever
themselves, from platitudinous notions, and live free, forever.