His face is plain and new and too small to really see. I had never seen this boy before. Before he can throw another rock at me, I call out to him: “Hi!” He can hear me. I wonder how he got in there. I wonder for how long. I ask him this. Maybe he…
One Last Next Thing | Poem
I never will because there is always more. Always one more thing I must acquire another feeling I need to chase. Nothing is getting better inside of me. (I won’t lie.) But that doesn’t matter. I live for the one next thing the next thing on my list. I can’t do it until it is…
Boy in a Well | Part 1
There would be moments where I would find time to be alone. I leave the cabin and sit along the river bank and toss stones into the water. It was nice, nice to think about anything and do nothing. For most of my life, I was an only child. That changed two weeks ago. It’s…
Overboard | Poem/Song
If you’re sad and feeling sober Just let me know, let me know. Or else I’m going over, going overboard, because this ship can’t contain your grievances– my condolences. – I’m going overboard sinking with the water where the pressure cracks my bones and I don’t have to listen to you or think of you….
2 Conversations I Overheard Girls Talking About
First Conversation: Boys & Stuff “Yeah, but what’s your body count?” I hate when I’m in the bathroom and a group of girls start having a loud conversation. Their words tend to bounce off the walls to make even their whispers sounds like screams. Since I drink about 100 cups of water a day, I’m…
Squirming Worms | Poem
Squirming worms of dread,
on the walls and in my head.
Things Do Not Change, We Change | Laws of Life Essay
I have always been a person that notes change. Frankly I’m not sure if I love or hate the breaking of my habitual routine or of my consistent thoughts and judgements; nonetheless, it is still fascinating to me. Thoreau’s quote is like a remedy to my younger self’s question about how people gain or lose…
for now, i’m not enough | poem
i’m not beautiful enough to know you you’re too good to look at me. – is this what you think of me? or is it what i think you think about me? it’s too late. i can’t change. there’s no point to redo. i move on, i give up, and i’m gone. i move on,…
hang with the greats | poem
and the fears i’m too afraid to face alone and it’s so hard to do so and it’s so hard to do so and i know you’re not afraid so take my hand you’ll hang with the greats
I Don’t Love the World | Poem/Song
In the morning time stays a ticking. I hear the doorbell: whoever it is, you better keep on ringing. I don’t care about the world. – Sunshine is an annoying facet. I always hate the shine on my assets. I always wondered what the world would say. – In the night, I hear the crawling….
