she conquers all.

i left nothing, i forgot nothing

just a drawstring effect on a year very much worth living

eventful to say the least

and as i continue to manage small spaces,

i will keep experience micromanaged in bins

catalogued in no certain order for the next year

which will be all-so-different

in ways i cannot explain

freshman year: you are defeated.

one letter.

the aftermath of a life spent without violence

culminates in my lack of interpersonal skills with those

who i deem to be better

so i reap the rewards of a silent mouth and careful posture

learning what it is "beauty" and

"fulfillment"

your note missed my plate

but i think i am okay

because chai will taste like heaven regardless of your fitted clothing

and it will be consumed tonight inevitably

as i venture into the land of hipsterdom

so i segment my life as my body turns bronze

and you will be gone

but i think i am okay

eventually, the simple letter "i" will be enough

smokes, struts, sighs, and sings.

like puzzle pieces, they pair off like salt and pepper

blending together into a single shade of grey

as the shaker breaks

and the glass

cuts

my fingers

i smile because i am happy

but i return singing killing me softly

for mine eyes have seen thy salvation

a light to the Gentiles

i ask only this

why?

trying to believe in salt, pepper, and sand

but they

slip

through my fingers and blend into the earth

like dirt in the universe's eye

eyelids shut

to end the dream

to start the day

to put a face to the blurred people, places and pictures

alligators, bright shirts, no seasons

waking before waking

night before night

morning of my morning

set off my half-a-brain

so that i may finally see what

apparently

i have been missing this whole time

immortal.

stretched out so thin,

you can see the veins, blue

and the bones, white

the stress seeping through pores

as i laugh hormones into sweet submission

ein deutches requiem

salalala carry me to the countryside where

rain

falls

and cleanses the sleep out of eyes

honest to god

i will shut my amygdala off

because i dreamt of you last night, and i

hate it

i also hate that i take these

symbols personally:

8, 0, and %

weighted grades please,

compare it to my heavy heart

and acknowledge the fact that i am not smart enough for college

nor musically talented enough to sightread the dominant seventh scale

nor responsible enough to make it to class on time

nor beautiful enough to win attention

and finally, not immortal enough to be able to be just okay with all of the above

no

stretched out so thin,

you can see the veins, blue

and the bones, white

the stress seeping through pores

as i laugh hormones into sweet submission

sorry. i meant bitter

tip-toe life.

the tip-toe life... its a strange one. i listen to hair being crisped into curls as my one reason to curl them turns the other way. which doesn't mean a lot, i suppose. planning my future inside of little boxes, eraser in hand, because who knows? maybe i won't be good enough. no one can make me choose anything, and no one is concerned enough to truly influence my decision. so plodding on, i will push the glass door open as i am ever conscious of my fallen face, fully aware of the fact that i was born into this tip-toe life alone. "don't force it," but you don't know my voice. you don't know the reasons for my downturned eyes and callous care. after all, only in the muddled hours of the morning did i tell a story of drowning and innocence's death.

why must fate hang me out to dry like winter's laundry? my skin is beginning to sag and fade from the pressure of the skies and the ever-telling tornado.

the conductor, he sounds like tevya

the problem of evil.

i thought i had heard birds chirping through the lightning streaks of purple sky

but it was the furnace creaking as time and rust wore away at its pipes and gears

snow white.

frankly, i'd rather not

but yes please

i hold your eyes with a dusty key in the shape of a dented heart

i've asked what i need

and you're the opposite of burns and forgotten fingers

yet still everything i should not

tainted mind in a church?

hell, here i come

but before i go,

at least i'll know that i have made my mark

red, mellow, raw, and lingering

my little eyes cannot hold much,

but your ever-fleeting attention

at least for a second

silent, drawing

when i wake up in the morning,

i pray that my heart will remain in my chest

and my lungs in a place where nothing stops their heaving

never have i wished upon a shooting star

mostly because i miss them

but because i don't believe in asking

so fate, my fickle, foolhardy friend

let you cruel trick end quickly

so i may rest back into the blue

and let this verse end softly

so as not to awake my silent reason

resting, waiting, watching