The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.

I hope freedom's gates
taste sweeter
when captivity
has been
this
long.

And I looked myself in the eyes
And found I had run off again
      -Tell me if you see her

i never liked mushrooms.
too slimy,
too gross.
i woke up last week,
craving mushrooms.
it’s funny,
the way we change.

If the trees would speak,
They’d tell me to leave,
To find my roots,
Grow up to the clouds,
And find my peace.