poetry

back home

dec 9th '21: 2:06 am

when you come to visit

i'll be tired beyond belief

but i'll ask you to come to my single sized bed

squeezing and stretching

hoping you have enough room

it's hard to tell when the season has changed lately

sometimes it's summer

other times winter

but i seem to have completely missed the fall

it's the middle of december but the leaves still cling to thier branches

never changing color

sometimes when i wash my face i scrub really hard

half-hoping that somebody new will appear when i look up into the mirror

but i'm never dissapointed when the same face stares back at me

red, disgusted, and raw

blood blossoming into the cloth,

spreading,

like a horrible disease and a beautiful flower,

spreading, flying,

infinitely, forevermore

and i saw a man

the snake curling up his arm

draw two lines and a curve

on the suddenly foggy window

i had a dream where you threw an orange at my face and i got a nosebleed

i am becoming a caricature of myself

slowly

surely

her classroom is otherwise silent

but the trains horn from afar slices the veil

the sudden ivy spirals along our limbs

until we all bloom into ourselves

growing into a suffocating silence once again

the weight of my bag is heavier than my heart today

making it slightly harder to trudge through

but with chocolates in my hand and warmth on my fingertips i will hand something nice to someone mean

who deserves nothing from me