sleeping off the week in a day.

Confront my thief. 

Bleed out into the rain. 

Everything starts to look beautiful 

when it looks like it's falling apart. 

Now we keep going in circles. 

When are we going to step in and say 

words that will hold us together? 

(you can only keep me crazy if you 

can keep me forever.) 

curled up against the rocks.

I'm sitting in the rain 

with my heart on 

and a glass filled with ideas. 

Revisiting the mistakes 

reclaiming the shadows. 

Am I all that you want me to be? 

Do you want me at all?

twenty one and sixty.

There are some days 

when I choose to believe

that what makes me lost 

makes me beautiful. 

By habit, I never trust the mirror. 

By lying, I never trust myself. 

I've spoken to midnight for the 

past week or so. 

The promises the sunrise make me 

are wearing down in my mind. 

I woke up today, not remembering what day was yesterday. 

Though, no one here cares when your soul is to thin. 

Their only conscious of what they can see with their eyes. 

So everyone remains wondering why the beautiful are fading, 

but no one dare investigate. 

Let us drift into the sky, no one knew we were here anyway.

tonight in tomorrow.

I feel more like the rough draft 

rather than the finished product. 

but isn't that the joys of youth? 

we make thoughtless mistakes 

and then become breathless with 

saying sorry. 

all of my lies are scattered across my bed. 

just for a little while. 

until I can connect my own dots. 

atmosphere.

When did it become okay to embrace strangers,

but not okay to embrace the friends around you?

I haunt the ghosts in my head. 

The ones that tell me lies and doubt my decisions.

There is so much confusion- 

and then it becomes morning 

and everything is lost again. 

The sheets become cold and dead 

throwing your body to an alert state.

Air taste like home, your arms felt like home, the sun looks like home. 

Tell me when I can return.

thunder & lightning.

I'm looking for stability-I'm looking for consistency. 

but I can't sit still and I'm restless. 

they're all fading and I can't seem to figure out 

what has gone wrong. 

I'm tasting my mistakes, 

they taste sour and broken. 

When is sorry never enough? 

(I wanted to run away from it all, instead it's all running away from me.) 

waiting.

I am slipping on melting ice in the summertime. 

head filled with ache. 

I need a plan to keep me from myself. 

just let the good overcome the bad 

and breathe out without worries 

of consequence. 

the beam of light in a thunderstorm. 

can I trust you trusting me?

on (un)broken ground.

when will they stop 

excusing us as dreamers?

the tops are pulled down 

exposing us to the world. 

but we'll just keep on driving. 

remove the blame, keep the fame. 

we're not going to realize it has started 

until it's over and we're basking in the memories. 

one a.m.

I'm a tortoise and a show horse. 

just the perfect amount of insanity 

and reverence. 

running towards the wave, but hiding when i get there. 

fantasizing what it would be like to just once get 

bombarded with the ocean,

which leads to dancing in the womb of the water. 

(but crashing waves sound so peaceful from inside the shell.) 

answering the why.

swallowing my lungs

trying to imitate perfection. 

my heart beating in my head 

breathless but full of air

my soul in the pit of my stomach. 

i find myself giving more than 

my heart can give. 

leave me gasping for air. 

my eyes blurred. 

tears close to erupting. 

and then when its over 

we fall into each other 

elated with the thought of accomplishment. 

i can't say i hate doing this 

(when i know) i will treasure it once it's all over. 

always almost.

The Pandora’s box of emotions.
Loosely based on the small facts of life.
Again something I can hardly wrap my head around.
I’ll be there for us all one day.
Even my inside begs to differ.
My heart concurs.
Dreaming on a string.
Never careful enough to know when to turn,
(Turn back.)

poison.

dreams and realities. 

(don't trust me until i trust myself)

fatal flaws in

days so full of opportunity. 

i will ask for this again and again. 

i may never, but i will. 

with all the fear it takes me to scream.

my nights end with imaginary broken windows. 

(i'm willing to say everything is broken except my heart)

the ceiling fans caught on to my 

poetic sense of heat. 

the day we accept life is 

the day we appreciate our 

slow journeys as well as the fast 

paced journey's that we can't quite

wrap our heads around. 

feed me to the seasons.