the days move too quickly
like the warped image
of souls on a roller coaster

there's no difference
between sunshine
and rain
for the heart of the day
is the same
        suffocating

an intense feeling of unease

i'm waiting for the precise moment
to reach out
and bring someone in
because i know that's what's expected
that's what's needed to project
normalcy

oh, how i wish i could cry out
to them all
that
i am not
normal
i am not
ok

but i can't

not now

not until the reckless rotating of the days
slows down a bit.

from the shadows, the attention is deafening.
overwhelming.
suffocating.
in the shadows, the dark is calm,
welcoming,
away from the bright lights.
spotlights are only for those who seek them.

Fell in love with a curse.

Bright plastic colors
stand out sharply
from the earthy brown and greens.
They don’t blend in
cleanly to the forest
foliage. Faded from the
sun, slightly sunken
into the ground
with age, the playground
hides in the shadows,
yearning for new faces
and fresh excitement.
But when the wind
blows, the old structure
shudders and groans,
whispering of ghosts
of children past.

In the midst of the excited chatter,
I almost miss her
quiet, lost,
She fades into the background;
The charged environment engulfs her.
This was home to me,
a world she does not understand.
Glinting brass instruments
shoved back into unassuming hard cases;
Black and white uniforms
untying and loosening;
The cackle of finished water bottles
tossed into waiting bins;
This is my home.
Dimly, I hear her call
my name, almost begging
I turn, and she is there.
And then I see a tear
slowly sliding down her face,
one special moment
of actual understanding.

In the warmth of the rising day,
leaves, golden yellow and shining,
sparkle with mirth, laughing
as the newly sprung seeds
dart off into the distance,
eager to start anew.
Roots stretch and extend
helping limbs and listening ears
to the secrets of the Earth
And the wealth of tales
that accumulate like rainwater
stay safely locked away
within the tree.

My mind is never empty

Like those days with clouds moving in different directions
a foggy landscape,
zombie weather, my brother claims,
but with particles zooming in all directions
or so my unfinished chemistry homework says.

Calendars filled with graphite lettering
stacked upon piles of papers,
discarded months swept into heaps
of forgotten leaves, neglected notes.
Ink bleeding in sporadic shapes,
lines of fatigue that never begin or end.

Faint melodies
trickle through the crisp
autumn leaves, vibrantly yellow against
dark, damp bark,
distantly elegant, distantly cheerful.

Winter winds whistling,
sharp and painful,
hurt, most definitely
torn arguments and shredded papers
and tears and grief and hope and defeat and anger and frustration.

And suddenly,
nothing.

I’m just trying to get some sleep.