don't you leave me in the dark

when you are in the dark,
everywhere looks the same.
it does not matter where
you are standing, or what
you are thinking;
everything looks the same.

the dark is the great equalizer,
all ugly things made beautiful in shadow,
all beautiful things made ugly in doubt.
no setting is distinguishable
from any other; all places seem
to be one in the same.

and suddenly, in the dark,
all things begin to feel the same.
although you could reach your
hands out and feel your way out,
why move at all when you know
you will only be in the dark
somewhere else later
and it will be exactly as it is
here, now, forever;
consistently empty and constantly unfeeling.

when you are in the dark,
everything looks the same.



i'm too old, too old, too old for this

but i can't help but feel, sometimes, like i am eight
and there he is, two seats behind me on the bus
while my head keeps hitting the window, over and over,
at the mercy of the vibrations of the wheels,
on our way to our weekly class for the honored few.

but i can't sit next to him, no, even if he said we could be friends,
because i'm young and i have big glasses, and he wouldn't
like me anyway.

(also, his friends insist i don't have enough pokemon to play)

i shouldn't let the big kids bother me, but i do, sometimes.


kindred spirits

here is my biggest problem -
i fall in love with words, with words of people i don't even know. and it makes me think i am in love with that person who is so far away, either in time or space or both.

there is no heartbreak
like realizing that a poet
is caught inside the pages
never to touch your hand
or hold your heart in
that perfect understanding
you are absolutely sure
they'd have

we are, after all,
artists, every one.


the truth is out

people and writing are the two most important things.
i can't let myself lose sight of that.

sometimes i forget, but i can't do that anymore.
not much matters beyond the creation of art and relationships.

(my current favorite person in the world is fionn regan.
i haven't been so in love with someone's music in a while.)


old books

i need more poetry and less academia.

up on the top floor of the library, i am caught amongst hundreds of books i'd love to read, but don't have the time to. i'd love to make the time, to sit here all day and read my heart out, but i have to organize knowledge for proof, i have to attend lectures (which are usually good, don't get me wrong), i have to sleep and eat and talk and laugh and cry and write. but i'd rather just get along by doing the last few things and not worry about writing papers and making presentations and doing unnecessary work.

i always thought this life would suit me.

i never knew how wrong i'd be.


i am the only one here
singing this song

i wrote it out on my hand

(it is no longer necessary to need a reason to cry)



this is advice i can't lose
and these are observations i can't shake

sometimes i have moments where i realize, "this person is changing my life. this person is changing my life right now and i am going to let them."



they say it's here.

i say it has been for awhile,
and won't be for awhile.



that's what it is, thank you for the words

i wish i had found you when i felt more connected

it's ringing and i want to leave
it's raining and i want to stay in


current affairs.

once the snow falls and the white
becomes an endless field, extending
everywhere one can perceive,
i begin to think that all winters
look the same.

looking out of a window at falling
flakes is the same no matter where
i stand, no matter what scenery
greets me on the other side of
the thick glass.

all is covered. slush begins to
form, gray and dirty, tainted and
impure. the roads make new
noises when cars pass, sounding
like soft impacts.

and i always feel the same.
in the winter, i always feel the same.

i will forever be four years old
watching your car drive away
from a driveway lined with snowbanks.

(i will forever be sixteen
with a realization that
everyone drives away at some point.)



that's really the only way to describe last night.

when i am growing old, i will still hold this so dear to my heart.

i worked in that man's campaign, you know. i donated money.
i feel a part of something.


yes we can

sometimes i get scared when things look too good to be true.
i believe in this.
but i'm also worried.

i don't want to be let down
and i definitely don't want anyone to get shot.

elect him, america.
and then let the reformation begin.


explain it.

i get so frustrated at traditional schooling.

i understand the subject matter. talk to me about it! why do i have to write a paper for you? why can't i just sit down with you over a cup of coffee and discuss this, like we are real intellectuals, like i am really learning? i wish that were the forum. i wish i could learn as an individual and not as a graded piece of paper. i am good at writing most of the time, but i feel like right now, i can't get a single thing out. i even got an extension on this paper, and nothing is happening.

where did my zest for the academic life go?

i still have it, but i want it on my own terms.

(i can't wait for graduate studies)

also, the election is soon, and i hope america makes the right choice, and that choice isn't stolen from them.
yes, i get a little paranoid about rigged voting machines.
but shouldn't we all be, a little?