i don't want to write about it
because i don't want to remember it.
the red eyes and stuffy nose,
the excruciating thoughts
of ending it all
having you cry
you make me cry so much
i'm sure you never imagined it would turn out this way
that i would turn out this way
but i did and it's not your fault
i don't blame you for the things i've done
the things that have happened
but i blame you for making me feel pathetic
and worthless
because of it all
that you do have control over
that is your fault
i don't want to write about it.

sore arms
four arms
bruised legs
headaches
hugging toilets
embarrassed
too drunk
to feel
embarrassed
four days
alcohol abuse
short skirts
sidelong glances
busy bars
thank God
the past
repeats
the past
same as always
long visit
last visit
embarrassed
too drunk
to realize
no one realized
everyone was too drunk
i blended in
the photographs
never show
the entire picture

i wear sweaters in summer
because the warmth passes through me
as if i'm a ghost
taking up no space.
perpetually chilled
i huddle into myself
and place myself into the sun's rays
to no avail.
to no raise in my temperature.
ghosts feel nothing
touch nothing
leave nothing
behind.
i am not a ghost
but i can't get warm.
i feel warmth
but can't retain it.
i wear sweaters
so i don't freeze
in the depth of summer.

stay awake at night and watch the stars. they ebb and flow like our oceans only we can barely notice that with our eyes. we barely notice a lot of things where those stars are concerned. by the time we see them, they've exploded and died. what we see is the memory of them. in memoriam in the sky.
the skies tell a story we only ever pay attention to during the day. we watch the clouds form pictures and we watch planes with wistful eyes - daytime's shooting star. the sun blazes and we take notice, but the moon glows and we rest.
maybe the moon is okay with simply guiding our dreams, casting soft glows as we slumber, but i want to do it justice. it lights up the nights, we should at least explore the world in its shades of grey. at least delve around inside what night has to offer before leaving. can life even be a life if time's never spent outside in the dark? dancing on sidewalks under the black summer sky, feeling night's breeze - different from day's - dance on your skin. stay awake at night because life wasn't meant to be spent asleep half the time.

if pangaea never broke,
we'd never be too far from one another.
the shortest distance
between two people
would be whichever streets
they chose to walk.
instead of datelines
we'd cross timelines
our points intersecting,
merging and melding.
planes would be unnecessary,
for the country could be
would be
criss-crossed with train tracks
and highways.
if pangaea never broke
there'd be no water separating us anymore.
my land would be your land.
our languages would only be
a few dialects apart
meaning our native tongues
would make sense to one another.
we'd make sense to one another.
there's something nonsensical
about the way we are,
feeling as though a body of water
is enough to separate us all.
is enough to make us believe
that our wants and desires aren't the same.

if pangaea never broke
we'd see ourselves as the solitary race
we are.
we wouldn't think of it as
us and them.
but us. just us.
we'd never be too far from each other,
so we'd see the effects of our actions sooner.
like a wave across the continent.
if our countries were connected
our people would be connected
and even though we're all connected
right now
anyway
no one sees it that way
but they would
if pangaea never broke.

love me, because it's not simple and you don't want someone who is. love me, because it's hard and you want, you relish, the challenge.
i'm in one day and want out another. i can be close, then distant. i constantly fight the dichotomy inside, i struggle. i am two opposing forces at once. who can love someone like that?
i don't open easily, but rather, use sarcasm as a weapon, as a fence. fences are dangerous. more so than what they try to keep out sometimes. sometimes it's more of what the fence is trying to rein in. to protect the public from. don't trespass for your own good. it's you who suffers after you were properly warned to stay back.
my love, though, is endless and knows no bounds. i give freely and don't always expect a return, though one would be nice. part of me gives and gives with reckless abandon while the rest of me knows better, equips me with a quick wit, starts building fences. my love is water. it can save, it can take away. there are two sides to my story. to every story.
love me, though it hasn't existed for me yet and i'd like to feel it one day. love me, though it hasn't existed for me yet because i've tried everything that has. love me, though it hasn't existed for me yet so that it will.
love me.

betray me
speechless
when i need your voice the most
empty-minded
hollow like a cave
save for the slumbering bear
i need to arise
winter's dead
and now it's gone
spring has sprung
yet you leave me
speechless
when i need your voice the most

dreary cold has dissipated
and warmth
and bright
should fill the orifices of your cave
should tickle the bear
so it roars to life
roar to life
shatter the walls
break through the confines
speak
don't betray me