never and ever

it's as if i won't ever
listen
to anyone


never will i
pay attention to
what i've done and who's said what and why and where and


ha. i just won't.

adventure

i do declare
we may be on to something here.


humdrum nothingness is nothing indeed
compared to the feelings left after words are exchanged.
voices heard.
contentedness found.


and i lie here in the dark 
sleep doesn't come
and i don't know what it is about
you and that and 
oh your voice
that's all it takes, i guess


age and distance are nothing but numbers
right dear ? and
i was never good at math.


i think i'm in trouble now but
danger beckons and
i think it's luring me all the closer to an adventure i never thought i'd have
and always hoped i would.


(but in the end, then, i guess it's better to keep thoughts, 
words,
feelings
like these to myself.)

pure anger

in a single moment
pieces and parts you thought were
yours
become a figment of some daft
imaginary
being


why oh why oh why oh why
pumping like a maniac through the
brain disconnected from the
body lying defeated under a
twisted mess.


and then
beyond that
more.


when a body disconnected from the major 
bloody pumping organs
heart and lungs and brain
pumping bloody organs
somehow stopped relying on you.


true
how it is that fact and fiction meet mysteriously here
beyond a shadow of a doubt
this has become the worst
thing
that could ever happen.
and three in the morning becomes easy to see again
with eyes unclouded by
tears expected from them.


i could kill a man for what has been done to me.
but i sit in silence like a motherfucking
godforesaken
spineless piece of worthlessness that shouldn't
even
exist.


why oh why oh why oh why oh why oh why oh why oh why
can't i just fall asleep and
wait
and
dream
and
die?


or live simply, softly, quietly, like i had always hoped?


no.
instead,
raging rampant within these weary dreary bones is
a something (or nothing) that could become a nightmare worse 
than the act that
got it there.


i need so many things right now but willing myself to cry is not working
never working
so what else could work?


i do what i dread every day without a care
what
could be worse
than
this?

Hunger

Self-worth.
Measure the moments of happiness
contrast with sadness
and feel.


Free verse is a medium
in which
I feel home.


Sitting in
a hallway in
a building full
of people
I feel strange.


Odd.
As if we are all
here for one thing and
pursuing millions of
molecules of
oxygen.
I feel breathless.


And now
learning feels like life.
And here
we are connected brains
conveniently going
where all students have
always gone before.


Walking in the same footsteps of
millions before us and
removing our personalities in
pursuit of something less real.
I feel gone.


And we worry
but worry is never met with
peace of mind or
change or
relief.
I feel-


I feel as
though my heart
has been ripped out and
stomped on and
I picked it up and
brushed it off and
moved on.


Today is a day in
which we have not
begun to realize that
we are one.
I feel safe.


Safety is
like becoming a
recluse or
some sort of
ridiculous monstrosity of
popular culture and
surrounding yourself in
friendships and
drowning in black coffee and
chex mix in the middle of the night.
I feel hungry.

why is it that
we strayed away from the notion that
women crave men?
i have trouble believing that
men are the only ones
that
think
about
sex.
instead, here we are
innocent
quiet
shy
but inside
we are screaming
for sex.
attention.
caring.

communication.

community.
commune.

never stop

today i wanted to go somewhere but i don't think she did.
well, she said she didn't but i didn't care enough to listen.
but i guess i care a little since i'm writing about it now.
though now is a relative term that has since moved to the past
again
again
again
and my past has been added to again.
additionally, the car needed a tune-up and it hasn't happened yet.
we're up before dawn and this is no time to joke.
where it is, i don't know.
i don't think she wanted to go anywhere today but i did.