Shelf Life

This afternoon I went to the library,
and lost myself in problems not my own.
Then I returned to reality and walked
back to the bus stop.

For just a moment
this small town felt like a city. I think
it was the smell that did it for me.

And then I passed the pizza place,
the one where I finally acknowledged
the lack of a future between us. It was only
weeks ago, but it feels like eternities
have passed since then.

My sandals continued to thud on cement
as I averted my gaze and walked by,
but I didn't hear a thing.

It's something of a relief now,
that I can no longer
watch the parking lot
since I know that car won't be there.

I wish I didn't feel bitter at the word
beautiful. I'll have to put that
dusty worry on a shelf
for now.

Rainy Days

All the earthworms are dying,

Stretched out on the ground

Waiting for jaded feet to kill them.

Maybe one day I'll understand

The painful truth of reality

And have my life crushed from me.

But others won't notice me there

Struggling to accept that I 

Will live to see another rainy day.

Pieces

When I was a kid I tried to fool Satan.
I thought that when I was in the light
God protected me
and the devil ceased to exist.

Now I try to fool my parents,
but they insist they know the truth.
They want to think they do.

1238 days ago, I went to a party
and I wrapped a present for the hostess
because she was too busy to do it herself.

I never saw her alive again.

Ever since then,
my life has become a broken puzzle,
pieced together with relative pasts
and uncertain futures.

I’m so tired of doing hard things 

by myself.

I'm not fooling anyone.
Not even myself.

(Un)Consciousness

Sometimes I stand up too quickly,
causing
a rush of blood to the head.

For a small moment I am
barely conscious and I think
I come the closest I've ever been
to enlightened.

Other times have been different.

I stare straight ahead,
attempting to focus,
but still my vision blurs.

I think that the strength of my will
will be enough,
but it isn't. I can no longer

form


coherent 



thought,






and I wake up on the ground.

Wearing Distraction

Walking home in silence
you learn all sorts of things.

You're used to the headphones providing a distraction
from the noise of outside. With the headphones in,
you can't hear the drill they use
to put a hole in the wall, and
you don't recognize that it makes the same sound
as the one the dentist uses on your teeth.

You don't notice the green turning to gold
in the sunlight
because the reflections of your screens
are much more worthwhile.

Maybe this is why the excitement of
new adventures
wears off so quickly. It's masked
by the distractions of everything else.

The way makeup covers your beautiful imperfections
and perfume overwhelms your senses.
I would rather be overwhelmed by other things.

Sunsets, blue skies, cloudy days,
but all ignored in favor of distraction.

I wouldn't trade them for the world, though,
because who wants the world anyway?
Too much poverty
and politics
and unemployment
for me to deal with.

I'll stick with what I have right now,
and try to remember why
I shouldn't wear distraction.

An Interaction

Hello,
what's your name?
It's so nice to meet you,
even though I know this one conversation
will tell you nothing important about me.

I stepped way outside my comfort zone
to come to this function,
even though I have plenty of other things
that I could be doing.
Like avoiding social anxiety.

What do I have to lose by being here?
My sister says that if people don't
want to be around me,
then they aren't worth my time anyway.
Do you think you're worth my time?
Because I want to believe she's right.

But now I'm just rambling.

Can you tell that I'm out of the loop?
I generally don't talk to people;
instead I stand by the wall or my roommates
and don't bring myself to talk.
I'm trying to change that, but
it's hard work, you know.
Or do you? You seem to know what you're doing,
but maybe that's just my perception.
Do you know the meaning
of traded sweatpants,
juggled oranges,
mild conversations
and fake fights?
I imagine they mean friendship,
but I'm not really sure.

Let's never meet again,
and I'll be okay with that.
Sorry.

Memory

Both a natural occurrence
and a human construction,

we see it as fluid
when in reality it is constant;

events that have always been in the future
suddenly become part of the past
without allowing us to adjust
to a new and somewhat unexpected reality

in which time continues to exist
outside the confines of our own minds.