It's 3am

I'm on the phone
No one's awake and I'm alone

It's 3am

The radio's on
Songs are played on lonely station

It's 3am

I'm in my bed
My eyes are open and sleep has fled

It's 3am

I'm on the balcony
The sky is dark and just quite scary

It's 3am

Some windows have lights
Could they also not sleep tonight

It's 3am

I'm still awake
When will life ever give me a break

dew drops in the spring  
the sun is shining
I'm running towards my mom even though the time has come for me to say goodbye for graduation
I try to focus on the day that is graduation
But everything is a blur
I zone out until my name is called
I walk across the field
feeling proud, accomplished
But I can't help but cry
as I try and not trip on my small gown
I spot you in the crowd
All I can think of at that moment is the memories that we've created
and the way we're all huddled up
I cry one because I'm leaving the group behind
making my way in this word
adulting
still a newbie at heart
learning through trial and error
But know this
no matter where I go in life
I'll always treasure you and the memories that we made
my senior year

when people are in love
they often say
they simply fell
tripped over their own two feet
face forward
and into the arms of their beloved

i did more than simply fall
onto the ground of your love

you, for me
were an ocean
and i dived
headfirst
roughly
harshly
almost painfully
into the waters of “you”

i knew i could not swim
but i did so anyway
i was drowning
entangled in you
surrounded by this being of “you”
engulfed in this feeling of “you”

and i did not know what came over me
but i let myself drown
i did not try to swim back up
because if i went back to land,
releasing myself from your grasp
that would mean losing the feeling of “you”

and after
submerging into the depth
the love
the passion
of “you”

how could i ever leave?

girl full of demons
hospital bed of course
getting under my skin

psychedelics are her life
since she never had one to begin with
unique as a different colored bookmark
inside her Nietzsche book

breed. complacency. man. woman.
everything between
the ecstasy of snow in February
stuck with getting to know you

i often feel like hollow light. If you
were to touch me, there would be
nothing but a hand passing through
a few swirling luminescent particles—
i am a ghost pretending to be human.
i admit that this is hard for me to say–
writing without wrapping words
in warmth is unsafe, risk-laden; my
fingers freeze up, unmoving,
suddenly unknowing. there are
a few moments each day when i lose
all my speech, and five, ten, fifteen
years of learning how to hold myself
together with shaky hands vanish,
swallowed like lifeboats sinking. i
would like to tell the truths buried in
my stomach—like cutting open the sky
and watching all the stars fall through
torn fabric—but each time my
words fail me, and so I will never call
myself a poet. perhaps one of the
most difficult things is writing
without metaphors—i can’t make
fear or pain or the shaky breaths
that happen after you’ve cried for too
long sound soft or lovely or like deep
ocean tremors, and now i am no longer
an artist, i am just the raw, bare soul
of a person who never quite got the
hang of stability. still i am attempting
to decipher how all these people
keep their feet on the ground, so if
you find anything for me to saw the
wings growing from my ankles off with,
let me know.

Someone must have taken a spatula and stirred me,
feelings that were discrete are now perfectly mixed together,
popped into an oven, preheated,
and maybe its okay I don't remember the ingredients or recipe,
as long we enjoy whatever comes out the oven,
perhaps even together.

maybe we don't talk as much
or sleep together every night anymore
but you still call me baby
and that's enough for me

I stay
thinking that you are my destiny