the rose dipped solid
wouldn't wilt
even if you begged it to

pick and pull the rest until they're stems

I thought yellow would shine eternal
I never had a favorite flower
The unmistakable hues of genuine -
Oh?
It died

Loving and painful
I don't believe I've learned to grieve
Nobody has
Cicadas have me trapped in an echo chamber
That's a projection

The voice I hear before I sleep really loves hindsight

I guess the waves can't
Warn the beach
Aside from the waves
Which have measurable patterns and habits
Silly people never pay attention

justice for former bloodshed

Though it really seems they could
A seemingly inevitable parallel
Always between what one deeply desires
And what awaits on the other side of that sharp and beautiful exhale

again and again and again and again?
****!
A comedic autobiography with tinges
nihilism Darwinism sandwiched w professionalism?
it really is stupid and oxymoronic

Are delusions any more tangible than fleeting confidence or a temporary motivation?
Contemplating I no longer have a grasp of what is tangible
The root of the void has been in-
Distracted by housewives.

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

you're new but feel so familiar
character you're named after, you're shocked i know the reference
i used to spend my days breaking in the spines of crisp new pages
I'd love to write a book
do I appear uneducated?
stellar gpa, i knew it wouldn't be important
but that is relative
my book and street smart have shifted balance
i'd take the charge
media rotting my brain in a way the magic tree house never did
books you can choose the ending
i lack the ability to think forward
stuck so vividly in the present, I prefer it to the past.
opening my eyes has become the turning of a page
it all ends and starts again, always. everything.
cover to cover in 24hr. where has my attention gone
a series of short circuits keep me afloat
i hope my stream flows somewhere beautiful
i do miss the mountains
why do I gravitate towards what feels familiar