Remain in a state of wonder
that cannot be comprehended
by those around you
Be one with the earth
as a wandering soul
wide eyed
free
and changing

Numbers of the lights still don't add up. The dream station on the orange bridge's sands, is so totally too far away to fly to. My life according to the animadversion of my dreams. The harangue and opprobrious odium whilst wandering about aimlessly in the square, on the blackened honey trail where I was cast around like some pebble lapidated by the wind. I barely stand, a hyaloid column soaked in fear and ambiguphobia; one girl's face is blurred by this maddening diplopia. While the haze drapes me in its suits of cinereous gray, I crawl sadly up the rise while I am bruised from the battering. My fuscous body heaps itself, exhausted and pandiculating, all I can make out in the advesperating and cloudy night, in all of its dourly silences- the gold hair fixed against the banner of light in the darkening sky and her beautiful blue eyes.

Science taught me that eventually, everything dies and returns back into the Earth. I'm just writing on a piece of future compost to a person who's going to die. That's not a proper way to think, though. Right? I'm going to be older and look back at how I used to be and hate myself for being this sad.

People have been treating me like ****, and that's I have been beginning to feel. Like ****. You said you were coated in ****, but babe, I'm the human embodiment of it.

It's white outside. Whiter than the whites of your eyes. Whiter than this paper. Everything is white except for the bare branches of the trees and the outlines of the houses and street lamps in the distance. You would think this is a white world (it's more of grey-black slush), upon first looking. After your pupils contract and focus on the whiteness, you see the waves of snow blowing from left to right at a constant pace.

The trees outside look tired, branches limp instead of *****. How I'd love to be limp with them.

I want to go to the roof of a building and sit on the edge and feel the air pull at my feet.

I always shake my left foot, sometimes my right. It's my way of keeping part of my body constantly alive. I am alive. Plus, I'm a nervous wreck who is addicted to the beating of people's hearts.

I'm a vessel of those chills that crawl down your body.

Everyone told me how I looked cute today. I wonder if I'd still be cute if I gave them a tour of my mind.

The hair on my head is the home for my troubles.

Apparently my eyes haven't been that white, lately. The veins are prominent and I feel how bloodshot they are. Too many tears, no wonder I'm dehydrated.

I like seeing the silhouette of the trees outside through the cheap curtains of this hatred-filled school.

My handwriting is like a kiss and slap on the cheek at the same time.

I have always wondered why people kept track of the sunrises and sunsets. Night and day should be one. Goodbyes end, just get this one over with already. I wish we never knew the differences between seasons and days because then time would just be spent with others and budding flowers would be surprises.

It's March 12 and I feel like I've been 15 for longer than 10 days.

Kissing shouldn't be a big deal.

I want to tear up my clothes and wear them like it's a fashion trend.

My boots are worn out by my wandering mind.

I crawled into your back pocket quietly and folded myself up small, like the smoke from the cigarettes you always lit but never smoked.
I bumped into your last name everywhere because I may have managed to escape the slum but we all crawl back to where our hearts first beat.
You escaped with a lens in your fist and roads I will never drive down, buried deep in your feet.
I sat on your shoulders and kept quiet. I watched every girl you fell in love with and I felt burns on my hands every time one pushed your hair back out from your eyes.
The girl from Missouri with the long brown hair counted 49 freckles but I knew about the 2 that were kept hidden under your knees and I scolded every girl who thought they loved you like I did.
I sleep with bones who cry out for my touch but sometimes they whisper for a girl whose name is different from my own. Her name tastes like sewage in the back of my throat.
I know love because I curled his hair around my finger. And I know that someday my children with have a head full of it.
But when you taught me love it was filled with new beginnings. But you went too far and I waved you off and sat back in the dust I had come from and told myself I was better off and you were crazy.
You traveled through towns I may never know and shook hands with people I will never see. Sometimes I imagine what it would be like if we kept holding hands. Mine got sweaty and your long legs moved too fast. My heart became heavy and held me down. You
Sometimes I sleep across your room on the old blue chair with my back towards you. Sometimes I hear you whisper my name and I know you still feel my hands slipping up your shirt and drawing constellations of how our future should have mapped out between freckles and old acne scars.

I am not a innocent little boy
Yet not a devil’s advocate
I am man at the very nature
With fallible qualities ingrain
Walking along with other artist
Wearing many masks to entertain
Some times is in role of husband
Often wandering like obedient son
At times walking along like a friend
A loving brother, hardworking worker
Or else in a coat of orthodoxy frame
I play all roles when they call me up
Trying to remember each dialogue,
Each act, each emotion, each spotlight
And when the next act is to being, I run
Behind the stage to change the costume
Change my make up, my thoughts on play
Run up again enact again, do the performance
Go down and change, come back for next
Living life like drama, each person u meet
You have new mask in place, new act
To perform , new emotion to emote and
Leave impression for better or worst..
And face away after the curtain call

"Not all who wander
are lost"
Yet still, I wonder
where am I
and where are we going?

But I know where I am
I'm in a library,
sipping a coffee
lost in my thoughts

Any of which range
from "what's for dinner?"
to "why am I here?"
Ranging from shallow
to deep.

My mind making
leap to leap.
Leaving me confused
and wondering,
Where am I
and where are we going?