Are you sound of mind?
Addicted to dandelions
like the ocean is to ice.
Wait outside the blood bank,
learn how to write dialogue
and make saccharin spines.

My journal is a tangle of spines,
keep an open mind
help me box up my ****** dialogue.
I’ve always been a fan of dandelions
etching paths along the river bank,
streams within the winter ice.

Buckets of camphor ice
relax the notches in spines
as we wait in line at the food bank.
Thoughts of jawbones on my mind,
the taste of dandelions
and organized pre-scripted dialogue.

Backhanded blue dialogue,
counting the vanilla crystals of ice
blowing the smell of cinnamon into floating dandelions.
My hands handle happiness spines
with the peace of mind
of money in the piggy bank.

Let's rob a bank
shooting quiet malleable dialogue
through an altered state of mind.
Your ribs are two sheets of ice
ivy wrapping around our intertwined spines
crumbly blowing breaths of dandelions.

Second hand dandelions
build up in the river bank
muddy trenches around spines
whisper outspoken blue green dialogue.
Three pounds of dry ice,
warm water vapour at the back of my mind

Store buy your dandelions, bear in mind
that the West Bank is covered in ice
and that spines speak their own muted dialogue.

grown too big for my britches,
I run my fat, fat mouth until I
look like a fool--a happy one.

flirting up a storm with his friends,
antagonizing my brother, my friend,
until she yells, and he kicks my ***.

I went for a hug, and he kicked my *** (!) physically pinning me, I can't move
I rolled him over once, at least I got that, and he later apologized for be a ****.

I mean, he's got three inches
fifty pounds of muscle, and

actual fighting
training on me

How long could I really last?

I am a woman, I am weaker.

Kate told me that in Nepal, the men backhand the women and children, very easily, and she was backhanded for not remembering how to say her name in Nepallian. That must feel awful, to have a feeling of power handed over to big fists because of strength, not money.

I watch the trees, I break a beer bottle on accident
I flash the cars over the bridge, I wasn't even that
drunk, I am just sad--very tired of feeling nothing.
It's just sibling rivalry, and we'll both get over it.

my family makes a tall crowd;
my mother is 5'10", the shortest

we were raised to party, hard, and we entertain, flamboyantly
we were raised to clean it up, efficiently, to take responsibility

I might be a fool, but at least I'm going to be happy later.
That's not guaranteed though, I am sure of that, certainly

He might be too jaded to be as successful as he could be.
That's not guaranteed though, I am sure of that, certainly.

Soccer is the sport
Which my heart belongs to
Kicking a ball into a goal
Under a sky so blue

Yesterday a game
Was played quite nicely
Until the end
When we became less feisty

A kickoff to start
The beginning of the game
Not many spectators
As it's not of fame

Trying to get the ball
Like a good player should
I get backhanded in the face
Hard
Knocked to the ground as I should

The refs call no fouls
As they favor the other team
It made me so mad
Since my lip had begun to bleed

Further into the game
The ball comes towards me
Nails me in the stomach
Making me want to scream

The halftime whistle blows
We get off the field
To go over the game plan
And take a time to chill

Getting back on the field
Determined to tie the game
We get the kickoff
The ball our claim

So ways into the game
Another player crashes into me
I fall to the ground in pain
Because I twisted my knee

I'm taken off the field
Another player goes in my place
But it didn't really matter
The game was over with grace

It wasn't our best game
But we've certainly had worse
Next time we'll score
And hopefully, no one will get hurt

I love the way you laugh.
It sounds like a dog throwing up.

I want to run my hands through your hair.
I bet it's as soft as a chinchilla's fur.

I love your height.
How it makes you look like you're the genetic product of Nick Jonas and a giraffe.

I love your eyes.
You're so full of ****, that even your eyes are brown.

My ego is intact, I stole **** from work and my mom isn’t disappointed in me.

I got papers, I got coffee, I got a lot of sleep, I read about that boxer got shot in the head [incidentally] and they said;

“You can’t keep a good man down for long.”

So I’m trying to find out what is “a good man”? Was it the hit and run I saw, or the fathers pushing their kids as products for their success? My high school class, or pretentious friends, or my managers cozy in jobs supported by nepotism calling me lazy, maybe my half dead beat father who kicked me out when I was 18 and convinced me I’d be an alcoholic if I ever drank.

Now your cleaning my ***** out of your sink and holding me and telling me I’m so good.

Maybe it’s my landlords who I never see, trying to evict me, or all the police officers who put like a hundred bullets in those folks car, or every guy who dished out a backhanded compliment to a girl who already cuts, or maybe, I know, it’s the president of the United States.

I paint my face red with lipstick and wait for the chatter of a crowd to turn into a riot of bodies. I sparkle in the light. I scream.

Morning. Diffuse light
through frost painted panes
xylophone alarm quantifies reticent consciousness

warm sheets a Siren Song
or ****** Lotus beckoning
to stay in comfort and familiarity

crawling to a vertical orientation
jerking into up-right ambulation
the still tepid bed implores you to stay

Dredging subconscious anxieties
nebulous worries swirl; full blown gale
Lightning fears & thunderous uncertainty flash behind groggy eyes

Backhanded ocular rub
quells queasy qualms
life is ineffably uncertain

But there’s excitement in ambiguity
satisfaction in resolution
interest in intrigue

invariable inevitability
only begets; stagnation, complacency,
boredom & apathy  

Uncertainty is positive, perhaps
a necessity even  
but then again the bed is still warm

After all the rage is run dry
And the rockets are set aside
The girl's not coming home
She ran water back and forth
'Cross the great lands on battlefield
She's seen horrors
That put grown men to sleep
She's nursed wounds that endlessly seep
But after the war out here
The girl's not coming home
She's not stopping or slowing
She's going to make a break for it
Because no amount of hellfire
Compares to what goes on
Behind domestically closed doors
The girl's not coming home
She's no valuables worth dropping in for
Because as soon as she enters
The threshold of the front door
It's another go round of fate worse death
And ****** all because
The girl's not coming home
She's learned from that mistake
Sometimes the one you marry
Isn't the one you loved all those years ago
Before **** went south and he backhanded your mouth
When the bottle made him rough
And you don't wanna play
Darling
The girl's not coming home
One time too many 'round that track
Lucky she has no kids
She'd leave them just the same
It ain't no way to live
In the twenty-firsf century
So everyone
The girl's not coming home

First off, a very backhanded congratulations to you, madam
Next, how dare you speak of that which you say you have never known?
You knew it with me and I knew you did but **** me
It never occurred to me that you thought it was as common as you make it.

Love?
Lies.
Love lies.
Love lies dead in the pool of blood next to the gun you used to **** it.
The blood is mine and I hope that you drink it all
Why wouldn't you? You already took everything else of mine with you.

So cliché, isn't it?
The way I'm acting must come off as melodramatic...
But the most cliché thing of all nowadays is
Saying, "I love you"...
... because you, like many other people, don't mean it.
The only love I've ever seen you give was to yourself.
It's called vanity, honey.

Now, cheer up. He's calling you joyfully
"Knowing" that you are "his"
Smile so that he hears it,
But don't clean up:  he can't see your make up running.

Meritamen was looking out and she saw ships beginning to land.
She understood that this meant war, and she had to command.
Her heart ached for her Hittite and Egyptian palaces, but she knew her duty.
Meritamen walked up to the front of the wall and began to survey.
A Trojan warrior asked her, So what should we do now, my queen?
She answered grimly, Drive them into the sea and let the waters hear their screams!
He then gently prodded, What is your name if you don’t mind me to ask?
She looked up and said, Essence, and this is your battle task.
Gather the troops so that we can drive the Greeks into the sea.
Let us make sure that no one gets away from us to flee.

Soon the Trojans were gathered outside the gates and Essence was in front.
She was in a chariot, and giving a warfare speech on top of the mount.
Soldiers, these intruders have invaded my adopted homeland and your place.
Do not be afraid of this race, and be emboldened to look at their face.
She raised her spear, and all of the troops began a loud cheer.
The Greeks disembarked soon felt a little terror and fear.
They expected surprise, but they knew that it was all lies.
By the view of all of the Trojans there before their eyes.
Essence urged her charioteer into the teeth of the Greeks.
She was ruthless in cutting down both the strong and the weak.

Achilles soon arrived on the scene, he was like a nightmare in a dream.
At the sound of him, Essence let out a primal, beastly scream.
She attacked him while they were both in chariots, did not get out of there.
Achilles killed one of her horses, and she killed his charioteer.
They both tumbled together, and it was a duel to the finish unfurled.
Between an Egyptian royalty and the strongest warrior in the world.
Essence took her spear and crashed it onto Achilles shield.
The spear broke into pieces, but the fixture bent and refused to yield.
Achilles aimed for her head, his purpose was to make her dead.
But she ducked and his sword hit the top of the chariot instead.
Essence then stabbed him in the calf muscle, between thigh and ankle.
Achilles brought his shield down on Essence’s armor, to crush the mantle.
Essence's backhanded spear ****** busted one of Achilles' back molars.
But Achilles drew out his sword, and nicked Essence right shoulder.
They were evenly matched, and Achilles never meant someone with such skill.
He stepped back in amazement, it would be a worthy ****.
Just at that moment, a charioteer came in and took Achilles away.
Essence was panting and muttering to herself as a charioteer came for her, Another day.

And now my coffees cold
Your backhanded compliments are getting old
We got in a fight tonight
you stormed out
you kicked over my bike

The biggest mistake you can make is thinking romantic love is the only type that hurts. Because a friend's judgmental looks can feel like a stab in the gut, a parent's disapproval could make you feel worthless, and a siblings backhanded compliment can feel like a smack in the face. No matter what kind of love it is, you open yourself up to that person. And as with any kind of love, it is those people who can hurt you the most. Loving people is exhausting. And loosing friends you once loved can hurt more than anything else in the world.

You've got three thing to tell me
Get up
Get moving
Get going
And one day I'll reach you

Come see me
Come on over
Come get me
These thing come out of your mouth one after the other
Almost like you say them
To all the boys.....

You're amazing
You're wonderful
You're a real beauty
Keep on building me up, only to keep knocking me down
I'm worse than ruin
Because I won't stop trying
My once wonderful palace of stone and gold
Becomes a castle of wood that's rotted and old

I love you
I want you
I need you
Things I keep expecting to hear or read when you send news my way
I open up my feelings with eager eyes
And let your vague writings fill my damp, tattered and deflated ego
Did you know
I think of you every day
Not of heated nights, with petals and drained champagne
Even walks down the sandy stretch under a mystical night sky
I think of simple moments the most

Please hold me
Please kiss me
Please make the pain go away
These mutterings belong to me
Words I repeat like a cultish chant deeply in throat
Every time I hope I am running through your eclectic mind

So I know you, who's life is faced paced and full
Will never look my way with longing and desire
You won't stay up late summer nights saying my name in your head
You won't even read this sad excuse of a backhanded proclamation of love
Better yet
If this does cross your eyes
And you somehow make it to the end of my rant
You'll still never believe that I'm wailing about YOU

So I've got three more things that I need to say
I love you
I love you
I love you

yes,
i look like my mother.
but i feel the need to remind you
with a swift chair to the face
(i think that'll get the point across, don't you?)
that i look very much like my father.
i don't give a single ****
what your last name is
that you're my mom's
cousin
you can shove that snotty
backhanded
comment
up your ***,
mitchell.
i have no relation
to that name
despite my blood
despite my nose
that looks so much like your side
you are not one side of a family
you are one side of a war

If luck knocks on your louvered door you will have a chance to fight your enemy. You will stand up like a crackerjack prize and pay no mind to the man that broke your backbone.

Into the windowless courtroom you will trek. People lined up on hand carved benches, staring with unaroused expressions, waiting warily for their names to be called.

You feel your breath halfheartedly fill your emaciated lungs with foul and cumbersome air as you survey the miserable scene and avoid locking eyes with the man that was disguised as your one true love.

You wear a band of rubber which you snap on your wrist at the first sign of weakness so you stay focused on the gavel’s exclamation.

He tells your long-lost spouse from another life with another wife that this is not Watergate and “I don’t recall” will not suffice in his civil courtroom.

His honor dishonors his woven white robe when he yells in your direction with agape red mouth and judgmental judicial tone. When the courage strikes your hand-stitched smile will widen with words and you will command an audience of perjurers who will point forceful fingers at their prior partners that used to be ******* lovers and now sit dead pan wantonly waiting to bleat themselves dry.

Slam the gavel while the corn cracks in the microwave bag until all the edges have been popped out and fairness has been forced through the funnel like liquid butter with a diet coke to wash it down.

You walk away, down the dark labyrinth of hallowed halls snapping your gum and tip-tapping your heels as you flee from the referee who does not understand your half eaten heart with the wiggly worm within its wind-up walls. He will pronounce your fate with a backhanded expletive and a muffled “adjourned.”

Excuses, excuses - they'll come in a flood,
When you realize your actions have pushed me away.
Imagine! That I once considered you blood!
But I've had quite enough of the games that you play.

The switch came in stages, a gradual thing,
I first didn't notice; it wasn't too clear.
My perspective grew sharper with distance between,
Felt your backhanded words as they pin-pricked my ears.

You thought I wouldn't notice, would let it slip by,
Never gave me much credit, and that was your fault.
Wrapped your insults in jokes, like arsenic on rye,
And you thought all this time that you wouldn't be caught.

I don't know where you get it - this self-righteous act,
It's not as endearing as you think it to be.
You might take what you want, and then leave it at that,
But I'm telling you now: you'll get no more from me.

I don't know what has prompted you picking this fight.
They're pathetic, yet hurtful, these things that you say.
And I don't know where you think you've gotten the right
To take it out on me when you don't get your way.

For years, it's been happening - don't know how I missed
All the ways you controlled me; I answered to you.
Always did what you wanted, I'm realizing this;
The extent of the selfishness you put me through.

But it changed not too long ago, didn't it, dear?
Oh yes, I grew a spine, and things started to change.
And, oh, you didn't like what you started to hear.
My defying your wants nearly made you deranged.

People grow and they change; it's especially true
For me ever since I was finally free.
So how sad to discover it's not true for you,
You're the same as you were, and as you'll always be.

That's the person you are, who you've been since we met
And it never caused issues until days of late.
The things that you've said are things you will regret,
Because I have no room for your envy-fueled hate.

You've become quite the mean one - I'm sorry, it's true.
You're no longer the person to whom I could turn.
It's a shame (it's a **** shame), but yes, we are through.
And it will not be me who is nursing the burn.

Maybe one day you'll change, and we might reunite.
I'm not getting my hopes up - there's danger in that.
Until then, I hope you learn to treat people right,
Because no one desires to stand by a brat.

Maybe I am the first to address how you are,
But I won't be the last, and this, I can assure.
Your poignant self-righteousness won't get you far,
And I'm sorry - for your case, there isn't a cure.

So remember me now; you'll remember me then,
When you lose all those who used to stand at your side.
You'll remember the disrespect you showed your friend,
For alas, she won't be there, holding you as you cry.

She tells warm lies through lips cool as frost,
while her eyes cast frigid glares.
Her backhanded barbs, sharp as steel,
strike like ice crystals in your heart.
Infidelity coats upon her like a sheen of ice.
Beauty and slippery deceit, rolled into one.
And yet, you stand, as a man made of snow,
not truly seeing, not speaking out.
You slowly die, waiting for her to thaw.
A snowball in Hades stands a better chance,
than you, to win her heart.
For within her veins runs soiled slush
and her soul is an Arctic wind.

About 4 years into the friendship, or whatever it had by that stage become, during a chat on our Internet **** preferences
over badly-filtered Americanos
in the UCD student cafe, I said to her
" I think I enjoyed our friendship more when we used to get coffee and just laugh for twenty minutes. "
And after a half second of unusual silence from her, those pools
of ever-renewing blue eyes of hers almost incisions
into my consciousness, I added" That was pretty unique."
And then I laughed unbound, and she almost shrugged
and definitely smirked as if to say "this is where I am now, it took some time for me to realise but it's where I've always been."
Unapologetic, as only she could seem to be.

And it was, like any tryst, fling or abandoned half-romance is, utterly unique. Half on the way
to becoming something we were going to hang on to and definitely regret
and half-stopped, sulking out of a puddle,
dead damp weight created by the differences we made ourselves
for the other to behold and dismantle.
The immediate was meant for us, first the attraction, then the disgust, then the despair, then the cursing off, then round to the intrigue all over again.
She remained the great question mark of my undergraduate years. Heartaches after her were equally demeaning, but far more easily explained.

You know you've found someone irreplaceable when they tell things you really shouldn't know,
things shoved up in boxes for years, things too unformed to be really caught sounding out, in the moments after your first kiss.
And every clever undergraduate will tell you how negative all connotations of "irreplaceable" are.

And yet these are the backhanded good graces,
the immeasurable gifts that memory serves
I wear this like a wound I can find wry mirth at the very sight of,
I have learned all this from her without her ever intending
These memories are indented in a music box with an imitation sacred heart all mine
distempered by the candid lines of a girl who never wanted religion, divulged somewhere in our seat of learning.

A new force begins in this century

With ancient notions of greed and scarcity

It pushes us hard

It hits our home

But last time i checked

We aren't alone

In fact we are more than enough

Community is key when the times are tough

And in numbers we hold still

We hold steady

We hold true

We are ready

And as we stand, shaken, surrounded, subdued and silent

Still we stand strong, together and without violence

And it all starts there

It all starts when we start to care

By separating past and present

By stimulating body and mind

By speaking out when something's left unspoken

We can find solace in these soul-less times

Within moments we are undefeated

In these moments we are truly divine


So exhaust yourself

Brake yourself

Challenge yourself

Remake yourself

And if you still don't understand the truth to the questions

And you still have to ask a selfish and backhanded 'WHY?'

Then fine

Lets find

Lets define some final answers to the demons in your mind


Have you considered that perhaps together if we share them

Lay it all out and bare them

That half the fear of it all

Might just simply unwind?

No way you say?

Well what if i told you

That the vessel that holds 'it' all in

Your pain

Your struggle

Your self proclaimed entitlement to 'sin'

Those things that you thought was just yours to fight alone at home without having ever known you aren't the only one that fights it on your own....

Your disdain for the insane frame that entraps your brain that leaves us crippled and maimed through what feels like the end of days.....

What if i told you

That your own shell is the only thing

That's truly stopping real change from happening?

That the struggle from within each of our minds defines the rest of time well at least the rest for all of mankind?

You.

Me.

We.

Everybody.

We must reach through it.

Cause if we don't, who in hells name is going to pursue it?

You have to hold it up to the light
To see her darkened soul
She was born into the night
When the spirits were forced to let her go
Releasing her from the delusional 'utopia'
She had always known as home
Throwing her, stumbling into the blackness of the universe
Through the gauntlet of buffeting blades
Which tosses her back into her past
From which she has tried so hard to hide
If the truth were ever known
She'd hide it in the crevices of lies
Lies and half truths she has woven into
Thick veils and walls which block out the world
Like her hair does, hiding her eyes
Which brim over with tears daily Leaving pock marks in the path she's taken
Like a season of acid rain
Unforgiveness to her is another saying
She hears time and time again
Like a backhanded slap
Each time stings, but with repetition
She numbs to the pain
Cold as ice from her fingertips in
Creeping in towards her heart,
Surrounding it in a protective ice cage
Until some hopeful soul comes along,
Trying to warm her fingertips again

Your cruel words are cursory
Mean less than null to me

Don’t need a PhD
Learnt more in nursery

Sweet song of ‘helping me’
No more than sophistry

Pick out the forgery
Lies with no artistry

Flowing in, eyeless grin
Sugary medicine

Gaslighting, infighting
Snarl under strobe-lighting

Saccharine blathering
Indolent flattering

Backhanded compliments
Heard without inner sense

I reject totally
Self-slighting sorcery

Callous affrontery
Bankrupting bursary

I have observed more
Preserved more

Have learned more
Deserve more

Have value
Don't argue

Can trust me
I must be

Enough being
just, me

So hear me,
my dear me,
coz now we agree

I am worthy

Bad birth, Birthed a ******* baby
Born bad, born to be betrayed
Baggage badly backhanded beaten brutally
Born to be bullied, Before breathing beauty
Born to be bashed
A Barrier bouncing barbarian
Black blocks block beautiful behavior
Boiling beauty turns to a brutal beast  
Blocked brain banned from being the best
A bitter beast born bad bonded behind bigotry
Bombarded brain brutally beaten before birth

I take time to remember that the things which broke me
are also the same things that rebuilt me.
I take time to look at my father
and his reaction when I told him
the hands of time which he had no control over
withered my being with a bottle and made me trust men a little less.
I take time to remind my mother
that my issues with affirmation don't come from
never being in love or being alone a little too much
they come from long work days and even longer nights
spent bickering about the child that I see across the halls
that he sees when he looks into the mirror hating himself.
I take time to remember the wall I had my back pinned against
was cold like the winter seasons I spent hiding away
from torment and never descending vocals
attempting to outshine each other
one backhanded comment at a time-
and that it was never my downfall
never what held me back as person or made me afraid.
My downfall was with each slap in the face
that was literal or figurative I figured it was my fault.
But we can't help the hells in which we face
even if those hells are stained red across our faces
I have felt the pain.
I have remembered every moment I tried so hard to repress
and knew the tragedy it had brought me.
But with each moment of sorrow is another story
another reason my fingers hit these keys
instead of letting someone else hit me
I have seen the thunderstorms and slept under dark clouds
awaiting the moment I get struck by lightening.
Death is imminent, as well as pain and happiness
without them we would never appreciate ourselves
and each of our little hells inside of heads and our bodies
that have spent years waiting for validation.
We don't come with receipts, we are non transferrable.
We are that sweater you hate to love
and those old, raggedy boots that match every outfit
that at the end of the day you couldn't throw away if you tried.
The fight isn't over, it starts inside of us with each breathe we take
and the thoughts and feelings we possess are just soldiers
on the war path to defeat whatever life tries to throw our way.
I don't believe in most things..
but I do believe in me
so why should believing in anything else matter
when you have an entire war raging inside of you
just waiting, patiently for it's moment to attack.

You know something isn't right with the world when she can't even find comfort in herself any more
When she lets the words and whispers of her peers reach her ears, tearing her down until she is no more
I hate these people, with their stereotype bullets and words as sharp as knifes
No concern for her as they talk behind her back, not caring if what they say hurts her or not
Ignorant people with no inclination to see the truth, that just because someone isn't like you, doesn't mean they're freaks
But because she doesn't dress like you, because she isn't faking who she truly is
You leave snide remarks where she can hear them, backhanded comments trailing behind her wherever she goes...

You don't see it, because you don't know her
But I do and it hurts me to see her letting these idiots get to her
I don't know the words to make it better
And I blame all of you

The good thing about boyfriends
Is that they have no emotions

All these girls are so high strung
Makes me feel like they're less fun

So many points of view
So many arguments
All I want is to just chill
No more backhanded compliments

Guys kick back, relax
It's not a big deal
Let's kiss, laugh, drink
Loving what we feel

Do you want love
Or do you want passion
Do they always come together
Or just in small rations

Do you want drama
Do you want sensitivity
Do you want strength
Do you want security

A personal dilemma
When trying to discover
What you want in life
What you will uncover

Peter, Charles and I were jetting our way to Paris. I’d just woken up. I had to *** so badly it woke me up. It was a medical emergency. I stretched and everything hurt, I felt like I was 30.

Peter was sitting next to me, on the aisle, reading. When he saw me stretch, he said, “Hey sleepyhead.” Ok, I didn’t actually hear him say it, we were all wearing noise canceling AirPods. I read his lips. I motioned that I needed to get up and he probably said “sure,” marking his place with his index finger and standing up in the aisle. I saw Charles watching us and I gave him a sleepy smile.

I’d made the Paris trip 20 times, at least, and I carry an indispensable little travel ****** bag. I removed my AirPods and put them in their case to recharge and used Neutrogena cleansing wipes before I splashed water on my face. Then I spritzed my face with Biologique L' Eauxygénante moisturizing mist. Finally, I applied Clinique lip balm. When I was done, I felt human. My watch said I’d slept for 2 hours.

On my way back to my seat I dropped by Charles, one row back from us and across the aisle.
“How you DOin?” I said.
For some reason Charles and I always greet each other like we’re the Sopranos. “I’m DOin’ ok,” he replied, giving me a little toast with his coffee cup, “You slept?”
“2 hours,” I said. I nodded at his coffee cup, and he handed it to me for a sip.
“Mmm” I said, handing it back. “It feels odd not sitting with you,” I told him, because, well, it did.
“Go on,” he said, giving me a little shoo-away gesture. “We’ll catch up in Paris.”
I gave him a gentle, backhanded tap on the shoulder as I left.

When I got back and Peter and I finished the whole seat-hopping bit, I tilted the book he was reading to see what it was. The title read ‘Thermodynamics and Control of Open Quantum Systems.’ I pantomimed a yawn and he smiled condescendingly.

I put my AirPods back in and the annoying, but necessary, jet noise vanished. The little jet on my seat display indicated we had about 5 hours to go, but I had my Kindle (500 books), my iPad (games, apps, the slow Internet), my Nintendo Switch (Animal Crossing and Zelda), my phone and, of course, the movies and series offered on the seat panel in front of me.

Then, I remembered the two Cinnabons and Honeydew melon Boba Teas in my backpack. The flight attendant passed and asked if we needed anything.
“Can I get a large cup of ice, please?” I enquired. She nodded, making a ‘be right back’ finger motion.

It’s not like we have to row this jet. Why do people complain about air travel?

for all the times
you threw me out,
i think i've finally landed
on my own two feet
my ankle could be sprained though
and i think my knees are bruised
from begging you so many **** times to just
stay

too many times did i dry your tears with my own
only to be backhanded with an abundance of silence and indifference

i made you a mountain out of all i could pour out to you,
and yet you never bothered to climb it to see the beautiful sunrise up there waiting for you
because you made me feel like a new day

but now the sun is setting
and your face is silhouetted by the shadows
there's no moon tonight;
only the stars that watched us
come together
and fall a p a r t

and for all the times
you let me break,
i think i've finally put myself back together
my hands are shaky though
and i think they're deeply cut
but maybe you'll look at them
and you'll see the damage
you inflicted on my heart

*at least i'm not crumpled up on the floor anymore