5 minutes

I want to drink coffee

and lounge in grainy languor in black lingerie


i want to

sip russian milk


while i spill my feelings to

a wordless abyss


that seems to care

for the children of it’s infinite circumstance


infinite opportunity

infinite opulence


and infinite opression

replace chemical connections


with synthetic sympathy

and fabricated feeling


i want to contemplate this conundrum

evaluate the effieciency of empathy 


but I’ve only got 5 more minutes




You can see my heart beating

Watch the fabric of my shirt quiver with the palpitations

Sometimes I just get this way

When my hands shake

And my knees quake

And my body trembles.

The light is too bright for me,

The sounds too loud,

Your voice too abrasive,

Like rocks on sandpaper.

I sit

I try to ride the wave

Try to be brave

Try to act like

Nothing is off kilter…

But for the next thirty minutes

Give or take an hour

My world will be on a slight tilt

Thoughts like headlights flashing in a dark alley:

Signifying something solid that I’ll never see.

Symbolizing something stationary and stoic.

Ideas are insubstantial

Reality recalcitrant

The world is wobbly

I’ll just have to wait this out.


Beyond Me

I never used to fear death.

That was when I thought I knew what it was. I thought I comprehended it. I thought I understood.

But now, the concept is beyond me.

Looking back upon my short irrelevant blip of a life, i feel that my time is passing too quickly and my proverbial night is no longer young.

I see the dawn rising, i feel the harsh judgement coming.

I’ve missed chances, I’ve made mistakes

I feel like my window is closing.

And though I’m only 17, I feel like I’m 70


Exhausted from running on the eternal hamster wheel

Unable to function. Trapped. Unable to escape my predicament, or even to assess it.

It’s all over my head, beyond my ability, beyond me.

Window Panes

I just kind of hate stuff sometimes

I feel so patronized

So belittled

So irrelevant

So pacified

So pushed aside

I sometimes feel like I’m looking through

Window panes

Fingers on the window sill

No one else can see the pain

The window is one sided

You only see the darkness

The black

The opaque surface

You may perceive the ripples in my placid lake.

But you can’t see the tears that caused them.



Why is life in slow motion?

A potpourri of feeling.

An Orgasm.

Sensation so intense, and yet strange.


It creeps slowly throughout your soul like a chill. Oozes into every pore. Permeates Physicality. Sets every follicle on electric alert. Crackles lighting through your toes

You can’t close your eyes

You can’t stop screaming

You can’t extinguish the fire

As you fall into a deep abyssal consciousness

A new plane of thought that exists only for the split second between twilight and dusk

Where a new epiphany is reached

And a new clarity felt

But it settles on the tip of your tongue, and is lost to the last second.




sleep tempts me like soft lips at my throat. calling to a deeper place whispering sweet nothings.

comatose, i want to be. immobile. deaf. hidden. a video of my soul on pause. with the world, my world, paralyzed with anticipation as to when we wake up.

we stretch. we rediscover our entire world as we know it. for memory is imperfect and  sleep is what makes it so. sleep corrupts reality. bends time and space. makes the here and now mercurial and subject to mood swings. we rescan and paint a new picture of the world every day.

minute imperfections bypass as our brain constructs an amalgamation of memory that we take to represent reality.

in short, we see what we believe. reality may not be so real, which is why sleep beckons me.