My Brother Insomnia.

Insomnia settles in
beside me
to spend the night.
His spiny shoulders
and curving hands
keep me awake
long into
the dark hours
of night.
I try to turn away
but each time,
I find myself
face to face with him
and I stare into his sunken
sleep deprived eyes
and wonder
if that's
what I look like.

Ocean.

Today I found my way
back to the ocean.
Cool wet salt
licks my feet
hands
lips.
I feel
rehydrated
almost as if
I never left
the velvet blue.

A Heart Rotten Through.

I have a heart
built with
rusty nails
and rotten plywood.
It stands on
a cracked foundation
and mold
and booklice
creep up its sides.
And every other day,
water that smells like
broken promises,
missed deadlines,
lost friendships,
and lies
come flooding in.

- - -
Tommorrow is the first day of school. My second year of university. My first school year living on my own. It's weird to think that a year ago I was feeling apprehensive about my life as a student-- I felt like I couldn't succeed, wouldn't succeed, could never succeed. This year I feel none of that. My only worries are rent, food, and parking.

I must stop using parallels as emphasis.

With Words You Kill.

Soft verbal irony
goes a long way
to beating down
my heart.
Though,
I'm not sure
this vicious sarcasm
counts as satire
because
it slices too deep
and leaves me
face down
on
cold
wet
concrete.

Things Come Together.

Things come together
before they fall apart.
It's what causes us to fear
loss
what causes us to do
crazy things.
We too will fall apart
one day
just as we came
together.

Toes.

Toes gripping
the edge of the stairs--
if I lean forward I will fall
crumple
end.
It's tempting to try.

Strange Feelings.

Passing boxes,
focused on the task you demand
we brush hands,
and I feel
something
I have never felt before.
A warm comfortable ache.
A deep firm embrace.
A kindred spirit
perhaps
I feel
something
I have never felt before.

Corrugated Cardboard.

My life is
corrugated cardboard
the surface is smooth
but underneath
are the highs and lows
that it is built upon.
You think nothing
of the structure
of a cardboard box.

- - -

Holy macaroni. I am so bad at this blogging thing.

A Bad Relationship.

We choke on
strands of time--
our eyes never see
the easy way
the straight line.
We choose the love
we think we deserve
complications
in the form
of verbal battle
hanging on
the edge of a nerve.

Clouded.

The sky is overcast
clouded
like my thoughts.
I'm not the person
I once was--
clarity like the pale blue
of a summer sky,
this my thoughts
are void of.