one day she met a boy

they fell in love behind thick lenses and stacks of books

she loved the way he slipped his pencil behind his ear

she loved the way he shook his leg when nervous

she loved the way he loved her

innocently and unconditionally


but boys are not stronger than hunks of metal

and the heart she stole stopped beating 

soon even thumping inside her chest was broken

though there wasn’t much left in the end


she met a man years later

and he gave her desire

so she gave him a child

under wedding bells and sheets of white

he promised to care for her

to care for them

all her petty human desires he took and carried

but not the love she wanted

she craved his affection but it was sparse and fleeting

soon eyes were wandering and chips of her heart flew away


months later she met a child

with her eyes and his hair

little and squirming about

but she felt nothing

there was nothing left to give

because all pieces were broken and gone

and for all of her efforts

she couldn’t love this child


she knew three loves in her life

the one she lost

the one she desired

and the one she couldn’t give

when the lights finally dim 

and all i see are dull shapes outlined faintly by dying stars

i can hear the faint drumming

maybe it’s my heart beating a little too loudly

maybe it’s the neighbors

but i hear the anthem of our desperation

the things we used to be

and the things i desperately wish we were

it fills a quiet room

rebounding from my dresser and desk

smothering and seeping into my fingers 

it’s the jilted rhythm i can’t help but tap 

when my hands refuse to be still

do you hear it?

I’m so tired of feeling alone

Because there’s so many feelings and fears that bounce around in my head

And sometimes they hurt

Because there’s too many somethings where nothing should be

And there’s too much nothing where I cry for something

There’s a barrier between what I see and what I am and everything is so fucking exhausting

Nothing’s wrong though

I should be happy

Why aren’t I happy

Nothing is wrong. Something is good.

But I’m still lonely and tired and everything is beautiful but I can’t feel anything.

I want to talk to you to remind me that I can be something more

That there’s more than the words that keep me company while turning me insane

Talk to me.

Take these words away from me.

They hurt and I’m tired.

Please forgive my terrible lack of eloquence because this place this terrible simple and awful place has driven me insane. I can no longer think properly and it should be outlawed for decisions to be made after midnight for one so utterly neurotic and ridiculous as I. Such choices ought to be demolished and forsaken for fear of irrationality. Irrationality. The terrible and awful thing I suffer from now. This very stupid moment now.

We are the time of confusion and pain and an endless procession of blinding colors

Cutting and pasting parts of ourselves to fit the puzzling spaces of the crowd

Iridescence bleeds upon futile attempts to forget the parts of us broken and torn apart

As remnants of lighter shades rub off the pieces left behind

We are the time doomed to loose ourselves

To fade into inexplicable mass of forgotten traits and chips of paint

The buzzing of the ever massing society clamors and demands attention

But openings and placements are oft concealed and moments of uncertainty dangle beside those comfortable few

Complacency beckons and solitude brims of soft amenity

Such that is never nurtured among the tatters of esteem and those that delight in their deconstruction

Oh, to be young.

I want you to mean something more

Besides that one in that place

Where my insides twist a little and the room gets a bit warmer

I miss seeing something like you

To make me lighter with pastel thoughts bubbling in my throat

I miss

I miss you

Yet you never happened

And wanting and missing you is wasting away on scenes dreamt in delirium

(But my empty moments still turn to you)

She is the melody that takes his breath away

But charm fades quickly and bitterness is difficult to conceal

And she is a terrible loveliness with a lilting tone that carries through still air

What can he do but stand paralyzed

As arias plunge down his throat and snatch the breath from his frame

Catching the insides of his body and tearing holes in his system

She leaves as harmonies fade and inflections trickle away

Yet he remains with ringing ears and heaving lungs

hours of taunts come from the room next door

simpler times call

and she sits in the middle

hands against her ears

begging to stop

gripping fears embed themselves in her skin

staining each smooth surface

then sliding into her bones

and each movement brings about paralysis

days are numbers and calendars seem to shorten

nostalgia brings nausea 

and each breath is closer to a shuddering cough

stop please stop

whispers of change murder an inner child

and i can’t 

i won’t

please don’t make me 

yet time stills for no little girl