each day we use a new damaged thing,
but we don’t realize it.
like broken bristles on a brush;
toothless, smile gone,
and it only scratches my head,
and time tells of my tangles.
but i am lazy to care too much.
borrowed it years ago;
never had the heart to give it back,
never had the heart to pull it out.
now the handle’s gone and left me in tears,
sane and stubbed and sad.
broken bristles ...
peace to me
is a golden haired dog
asleep on a floor
by a fireplace.
and a fire
which is concealed but still spreading,
and it’s casting its warm radiance.
and i could say it is like the sun,
but it’s not harsh like the sun,
it’s not cold like the sun,
it is quiet unlike the sun.
peace to me is a dream i can’t catch with my hands, it becomes a buzzing in my ear
for some reason.
and it hurts ...
hiding under the fig tree
has become my past time.
“do you see me?” I cry,
tearing the grass of my labor from it’s roots.
“do not hide your face from me.”
i hear my voice whine,
like an old carriage, deteriorated from its long years of faithful service.
i say this in a place I do not know;
in a time that isn’t mine,
but in the distance someone hears me,
and pays attention to my cry.
perhaps soon I...
i think the moon loves the sun.
though they could be enemies, i believe they are lovers, drenched in the tragedy that they will never cross paths.
simply a classic story told by shakespeare, but i might not be unscathed enough to believe in such magic.
the moon is cold, like a breath stolen in winter;
covered in craters made by the stars’ paper airplanes.
the sun is hot, like an embrace made fro...
somewhere,
you can stretch every moment
into a kind of forever.
somewhere
the air is fresh
and there’s no place to hang the clocks,
those that tell us we are fortune’s fool
have no authority on polished rocks
or blades of ecstasy.
sweetened grass, green and mellow,
this is thy solivagant destiny.
to be our own suns
bright and beautiful and yellow.
and if we should die tonight
should we be mov...
i love when people relate to me.
when i say i hate school and they tell me they hate it too. for whatever reason.
maybe they hate waking up early.
I just hate order.
i hate being lonely, and wandering the halls, and realizing i forgot how many friends i don’t have.
i love when people relate to me.
and they say they don’t have friends either,
but they don’t suggest being friends with me.
i want t...
please just let yourself be.
allow yourself to exist and enjoy it.
go outside, and even more so when it rains.
and when the thunder drains out the clouds
so that the sprinkles become a torrent,
take your hood off and close your eyes,
and let yourself feel.
let yourself feel everything.
let yourself hear the pleading cries of the gutter, as it struggles to keep up with the storm.
then let yo...
and her greatest fear,
was the one she experienced the most.
abandonment.
loss.
there is no difference between the whispers in the wind,
and the people who left, but never learned the art of staying gone.
the faces i still see everyday, are the same as the ones in the sunset.
but i don’t blame my sunset faces, for they never chose to drift away.
unlike the strangers i know so well....
he dunked me in frigid water
and expected me to burn,
to boil our love
to bask in our flames
to toil under the sun we ignited.
he buried me in snow
as if it were the sand
and told me to rest
to calm down, and withstand.
but amid endearing words
he missed the twinkling in my eye.
he promised me the heavens
but gave me torn wings
and expected me to fly....
