I can't believe I'm allowed to be a person. It's almost as if I don't deserve  breaths of air or the attention I so desperately desire.. I want there to be beauty, and I want to notice it, and I want it to notice me. I can't explain every happening, I can only go through it and tell you how I felt at that exact moment. I want others to see as I do, and I want to see as others do. How can someone be alone living alongside billions of people? Because we're oblivious. And simply confused. I want to feel unique, and all others want the same. I want to be my own but still belong with them. I don't want to be like you, or even be close to being like you. It's a sense of avoiding prediction and becoming special.. Becoming something more than myself and accepting nothing less.

Shy splinters licked her spine;
an uneven backbone kiss.
Some tissue for the weeping marrow
rest beneath the aching discs.
I've captured loose aspirations
before they could fly away,
and released them into Neverland
where they forever play.
The blue circles hung over;
they cracked and lost their touch.
The green stares find reason to attack
and **** the ones they love.

A blinding light flashes in the distance. Several unrecognizable colors swirl into grey streaks before finally drifting away into what seems like nothingness. The boundaries of this world are completely undefined and the horizon melts into an unknown eternity. This is the beginning of life. The concept of time and space is left to be lost within an uncertain reality. A second series of lights stumble in drunken skips toward my direction.
It knows I’m aware of my own existence.
The lights dance randomly until they finally sink into one glimmering beam, splitting in half instantly as it somehow rushes toward me, slowly picking up a dangerous speed in the path of its awaiting target.
It found me.
Nothing but thin air and silence separates me from this. The silence becomes my only hope.
My body locks the moment I’m caught in the tight clench of fear, the light taunting and swerving along my skin, and with a light-headed confusion, I collapse and end up sprawled across an oddly warm floor.
What I think is several hours later, my consciousness returns. Objects melt into defined lines of familiarity, tints and hues blend to form definite colors, and the universe sways and sinks into place. I am brought back to the
world I have always known but will never understand.
I am nothing but a figment of my own reality.

The taste of copper and abandoned dreams..
The air is stale and dry in the room where
the lonely trumpet man plays.
A broken tune and a broken heart
wails through all hours of the night.
He suddenly stops.
His lips are drawn away from the instrument
and his fingers no longer dance.
A lingering silence seizes every
ounce of his life, depleting his soul.
The nameless, insignificant man collapses,
his faithful trumpet follows him to the floor.
With a struggled last breath, he passes on,
but his music is still ringing in my ears.