there is something
nourishing in cafeteria clam chowder.
a deep spice in your belly
to fill up the empty feeling one gets
curled up to a cold back.
rushing home to find an empty,
carefully made bed.

why fall in love?

a new boy means i am writing
poetry, again.

Why are weeds considered ugly plants?
They are but the most beautiful anomaly in this cruel and unfair world.
Despite the lack of water and necessary care,
they still manage to find a way through the tightest and inhospitable of cracks,
chasing the warm kiss of the sun,
and to be showered by the cleansing rain.
But when they do overcome their hardships,
greedy, unrelenting hands reach down,
and strip them from the earth,
pulling out their roots,
and throwing them away.
Then the place that they worked so hard to exist in,
is taken over by some eye-pleasing blossom.
Real beauty is not found in those that are given everything,
but rather in that of striving to simply be,
to overcome obstacles,
and rise above,
no matter the circumstance.
There is something beautiful about that fight and determination,
and nothing profound about a flower that is nourished with constant love and affection,
because they will only grow to be weak and fragile.

I once welcomed Death.

I thought I'd be upset if he came,

but then I realized how much worse it would be..

If he showed up, and then left.

How mad everyone would be

that I invited him in the first place.

So at the last minute I cancelled the event.

Sorry, Death.

A lot of times I find myself wondering.
What would it be like to drive without stopping,
with no destination?
Could I go fast enough to escape my racing thoughts or
persistent insecurities?
Could I drive far enough to erase my lonely heart or
insistent fallibilities?
Could I find a place where no one knows my name,
especially myself?
Could I lose who I am in the yellow stripes and forget about
my life?
Could the turning of the tires maybe turn this wretched sorrow to
a lesser wretched emptiness?
Could the reflections of the headlights shine bright enough to
protect me from the darkness?
Could the wind blow far enough fast enough to break away
the limbs of old forgotten thoughts?
Could the traffic flow this way or that in such a way to help
me finally breathe easier?
Could the rain wash away the westerly dust from my dry
and thirsty skin?
Could the trees pass by more quickly than the details that I can't
seem to ignore?
Could the radio play every sad song so that the sadness my be
swept from my eyes eternally?
Could it?
Could I finally drive and push past the reality of who I am
and make it to something I do not hate?
Could I?