Like everyone else

It's so quiet 
in My head
There's so much I could be
There's so much I could do

But, is it really worth it?
Yeah, sure, work hard for tomorrow
But, when is tomorrow, 
that unreachable dystopia with an eternal dawn?

It nibbles and nibbles 
through the vastness of every thought
every day
every night
until there isn't a tomorrow

I'm not the first,
won't Be the last
A voice in the choir
that transcends time

It's always the same
Hate the cycle
Be a part of it anyway

Yeah, that's me
That's you
That's everyone

You're not special
But then
Who is?





I'm not sure anymore, 
but I just might be.
I love being vague,
it creates so many loose ends

I'm a pretentious prick,
yeah, sure, but I own it,
like no one else would,
at the cost of real friends.

I see eyes gloss over
every time I open my mouth.
I know I'm not really the best
to capture the imagination

You see, it's just that..........

The words, they tumble out
No pause, not giving my brain
a chance to glance at all 
the havoc they could wreak

I need to talk,
it's an urge,
an addiction
and I'm hooked 

I love it, 
I relish it, 
with every breath, 
with every flourish,
with every shout,
with every overtly 
exaggerated action, 

I see smiles,I hear laughter,
sweet as the tinkling of wind-chimes
at me, or with me, I could not care less.

Just a quick flash of a smile, 
and I'm content.
It's a beautiful sight.


If this was easy, I’d take you for granted and treat you with the same detached arrogance everyone else seems to be getting. 

If this was easy, I wouldn’t have learned to see the value in the little things 

The truth is, though, I hate it. 

I hate being so far away and still so close, I hate seeing how easy it is for other people, I hate that we can’t do the things we’d love if it wasn’t for this distance. 

Yeah, we’ve got phones and all that crap, but do they really work?

Fuck it. I don’t even care that you might hate me tomorrow and forget my name next year. I do care that literally prison inmates get to see people more often than I get to see you 

Dear fucking diary, reality is hitting me in the face like a grammatical error in a blog post, and I don’t know what to do about it. Every time I will myself away from my gluttony and sloth, I find myself thrown into this game of blackjack where the odds are stacked against me, and the dealer’s laughing his ass of, because he is me, and I can’t fathom my failure, at it’s pinnacle, every time, it just gets higher. 

I have a dream that is so tangible, so real and so close, slipping for a collection of bad days I refuse to recover from. This is noisy and flashy

I’m going to sleep, it’s the only real peace I find these days 


I see colors that feel as deeply as the time that surrounds every part of love in stability and uncertainty 

The headache flows like mud in the monsoon with the smell and the haze as the cars go by with stale cigarettes and greasy food

Wrinkled skin wrinkles up into a frown that disproves everything we once said but then didn’t 

Shut this down, but keep it running two whole days behind the ocean in motion as questions pop up like a brand new toaster 

Friends are all you need to fulfill what you have in the dogs world

Dear fucking diary, no, everything isn’t alright
I bad a dream, but I’m using sight
I learned to understate mental conditions
From my mum and haven’t recovered since
Yes I get to complain, here, if nowhere else
School’s taking me through six different hells
And they all look better than what tomorrow might bring
I can’t read, I can’t dance, In can’t sing
I feel like a bird with no wings


You call me cute and fuzzy and everything else
You taught me all the wonder that a writer tells
Even if you hated the world, you always had time to kiss my cheek
You come just to see me in the middle of your week
It isn’t a coincidence that my last two girlfriends were exactly like you
You taught me what it’s like to be happy and love what I do
You knew about my first kiss right after I kissed her
Trust me, you’re the best big sister

Sunday Morning

The sunlight flows gently, a river of all that can be seen
It drips down the walls, letting me swim in all that it is
I rise, as in a dream, basking lazily like only a glutton could
This is reel of life, an endless loop, the forgotten scene

On Love

Yes, I like it when you blush and your cheeks go all red
Yes, I have culturally and socially inappropriate fantasies of you in my bed
Yes, I like the cliched way your hand fits in mine
Yes, I know this may not get too far, and that's fine
 I love that we haven't even kissed yet( I do!)
 I like that one because it's the one you drew
 I know this may not be the way to do it,
but you know what, I don't care! Screw it!
This isn't shakespeare, nor mills and boon
It's too little too fast, and too soon
It might not be what they say it's supposed to be
But, it's everything to me