Every day and night
Our worlds collide
Two lit faces in a blurry crowd
Of passing faces, pacing
People and you’d think
I’d be able to hide

Do you see me, too?
I’ll never go to ask
remaining silent, moving past,
Heart and mind racing
Against one another as I
Try to find the means to
breathe

You’re so pretty in the sun
When it rises gently in the
Morning, and cascades light
Down your smiling face.
Sitting still by the windowsill,
I’d be dead if looks could ****

i want to sit amongst the stars
silent, dissolving into space, a
still nothingness, a pair of eyes
and no more.

i want LA to absorb me like a sponge,
soaking my essence, throwing it
into the sink with all the other lost
young souls: we’re soapy watercolor
film.

i want to be an extra on a movie set,
watching in wonder as personality
after personality passes me by,
perfect and poised.

i want to dissipate into the foam
of johnny depp’s coffee, or drift
like the smoke from uma thurman’s
cigarette against her lips.

i want to be a fleeting ghost, a jane
doe in an undated photo by the
paparazzi, nameless and noir
in the grainy polaroid.

i want to be a shadow, the fragments
cast off of a shooting star - i want to
trail along until i fade.

i feel like i’m playing catchup
you’re so far ahead
i try to reach out
but you’re out of touch
and i’m sinking in
quicksand

you sprouted and blossomed
i withered and died
i want to be happy,,
but you’ve left me behind

bone against skin
jutting out, thin --
i want a gaunt glow
where my cheekbones show
without contour

if running from my issues
keeps me trim,
and tiny meals
make me slim
i’ll keep grinding until
my hip bones pop --
and when i’m dead is when i’ll stop

I wear the nest now.
It’s an ill-fitting tutu-
Itchy, scratchy,
constricting, and I’m
Stuck. My wings would
Not withstand the weight
If I ever tried to fly to
Freedom, far away from
the
Flock.

you filter every pixel pore
you angle yourself thin

my darling, which
do you love more?

the ******* the screen
or the girl in your skin?

Everybody has somebody
And I have nobody
Welcome to twenty -
It’s awfully lonely.
“Friends first” has fallen
To lovers, and Friday
nights are spent working,
wondering, and wrestling
Self-doubt and pity.
Welcome to twenty -
It’s especially ******.