Our childhood's prime game;
Creating a paper plane.
Making it fly high,
But it never reached the sky.

We would continue to raise the bar,
But still we wouldn't get very far.
We would trust a redesign,
But never anything different from our own design.

We would work soley for ourselves;
To keep the success to ourselves.
We would spend all day redesigning a paper plane,
But never on redesigning our life's shame.

We live for a paper plane
And its thrill - day by day.
We would accept our life's flaws,
But never our paper plane's flaws.

We would live for irrelevant people and objects,
But never for our own salvation.
We would live with a self-opinionated attitude,
But why do we now live with our opinion based on that of the world?

We live like a paper plane;
Flying high, just to be redesigned.
The world never helps us stay sane
As we're always seen as a failed design.

Words are like sharks’ teeth—
rows upon rows of them
sitting like pews in an empty cathedral—
the light playing through the stained-glass windows of the gill slits—
glinting through the busy, flitting motes
of plankton dust.

Words are like sharks’ teeth—
endlessly guarded,
but easily discarded,
flipping like coins in an Italian fountain—
sinking into the cerulean abyss
of the Adriatic Sea.

Words are like sharks’ teeth—
a fatal phalanx
oft dismembered,
seldom remembered
except as but an evolutionary assemblage—
a prehistoric assembly line.

O, but
words are like sharks’ teeth!

The edge takes,
the point drives home—
the carnal hunger of the gums
resonates throughout the jaw,
compelling the incisors
to test their power
against the defenseless tautness
of the prey’s flesh.

The eyes roll back,
the neck jerks.
The water fills with a crimson miasma—
a hemoglobin ecstasy—

a feeling of God
flowing through the machine.

Words are like sharks’ teeth.

Imagine yourself
a linear expression of experience,
a long strip of film like
the kind in old projectors with the
sepiatic sputters and flickers--
yes! Imagine yourself a strip of film but
rolled up messily like
the earbuds in your pocket or
folding fitted bedsheets.
You are a movie and the filmstrip endpiece lies at your feet,
you are knots and coils and tangles and
if you were to lie down at the top of this mountain for a moment--just a moment!--perhaps
the wind would catch the loops of film and
you would feel yourself
unravel.

It was 1 a.m.
I was at a bar,
you were probably
at your house,
drunk,
having people come over.
I texted you
and the first thing you
said to me was "come over"
but you and I
both know that wasn't
going to happen anymore.
I had to tell you I didn't
hate you.
Because the last time
I talked to you the words
poured out of my
mouth like lava
and I was sure you
would never talk to
me again.
But sure enough,
without even hesitating
the second my name popped
up on your screen
you told me to come see you.
And that's what drove
me crazy.
Despite everything
you still always wanted
to see me.
And that's what made me wonder,
despite us being so against
being together,
we can never leave each other
alone.
I could only think
you wanted me
as much as i want you,
but we both know
we will never
admit it.
Maybe two people
are meant to meet,
but can never be together.

I was practicing a filling technique
(I'm a dentist so it's okay)
And it got me thinking about you
A T R A U M A T I C
It certainly doesn't hurt now, does it?
R E S T O R A T I V E
I definitely packed all the material in, didn't I?
T R E A T M E N T
Oops... I can still see the caries. And I think I filled it with trash.

well,

I'm not a good dentist anyway.

Maybe I should fill the void by writing?

I am trapped inside myself
I don't know who I am
Or what I look like
I know what I want
But have no way of getting myself there

I am trapped inside my body
I am empty
I am weak
I am starving
For something greater

I am trapped inside my mind
I am lonely
I am worried
I feel defeated

I am trapped inside my relationships
I am stuck
I am anxious
I am angry

I need a complete escape
The city draws me in
It's pulling me
Closer
But I just feel more trapped

Will I always feel trapped inside myself?