There is a thickness to the air here.
It deepens the colors of the sunset
to make up for the way it hides behind skyscrapers;
masses of brick and glass that join the sky at right angles,
Like Atlas and his children
and all his children's children gathered together
to hold up the earth we created,
The sky we created,
With all our city smells of restaurants
and power plants
and cigarettes.
Of course we’re addicted

We are all constellations
Traced from the electric lights we substitute for stars
Even though we know we cannot replace them.
We have to remind ourselves
There are stars out there somewhere,
There are stars out there somewhere,
There are scars out there somewhere,
There are scars somewhere,
And they bleed out of peaceful park fountains and
The city grew roots around them,
Fluorescent scar tissue pumping subway cars through
Tangled arteries carrying passengers
That are fifty-seven percent coffee, add a turbo shot of Business suit and
a serving of secondhand smoke.
Of course we’re addicted

There is a thickness to the air here.
It deepens the colors of the sunrise,
But we cannot see it from below the ground.
Of course we’re addicted

Bubbling waves with water so blue
They call to me on the board I lie upon
A small white seagul perched on a booey as the water lapped upon it
It catches every fish it could find before the pelican does

Of course I smirk to myself at the simple action

The waters are calm and no waves could be seen
I came out here at first just to ride a wave
But it's so calm that even the clouds are minimal
Like a little child again I gazed up at the shapes

A elephant, a seal, a little boy on a tricycle

My mind was so far in the clouds literally
This caused me to lose my attention on the ocean
I couldn't see how the water was growing unneasy
I couldn't see how a huge bulge nearby was becoming a wave

A tsunami of the sorts

I didn't know that a earthquake hit not too far from here
But once I saw the rising everything I was tossed off the small board
I was so scared I couldn't concentrate on finding to something to hold onto
I couldn't swim on with the currents

I was struggling and near drowning

The seagul was now flying around my head as if to keep me awake
The cloud were pointing towards dry land but I could sea
The sea has became too strong for even I a great swimmer
It seemed that I suddenly drowned

All I could see was darkness

O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done,
The ship has weathered every rack, the prize we sought is won,
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring;
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.

O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills,
For you bouquets and ribboned wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding,
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here Captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head!
It is some dream that on the deck,
You’ve fallen cold and dead.

My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still;
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will;
The ship is anchored safe and sound, its voyage closed and done;
From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;
Exult O shores, and ring O bells!
But I, with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.

Take heed of this small child of earth;
He is great; he hath in him God most high.
Children before their fleshly birth
Are lights alive in the blue sky.

In our light bitter world of wrong
They come; God gives us them awhile.
His speech is in their stammering tongue,
And his forgiveness in their smile.

Their sweet light rests upon our eyes.
Alas! their right to joy is plain.
If they are hungry Paradise
Weeps, and, if cold, Heaven thrills with pain.

The want that saps their sinless flower
Speaks judgment on sin's ministers.
Man holds an angel in his power.
Ah! deep in Heaven what thunder stirs,

When God seeks out these tender things
Whom in the shadow where we sleep
He sends us clothed about with wings,
And finds them ragged babes that weep!

Master went a-hunting,
When the leaves were falling;
We saw him on the bridle path,
We heard him gaily calling.

'Oh master, master, come you back,
For I have dreamed a dream so black!'
A glint of steel from bit and heel,
The chestnut cantered faster;
A red flash seen amid the green,
And so good-bye to master.

Master came from hunting,
Two silent comrades bore him;
His eyes were dim, his face was white,
The mare was led before him.

'Oh, master, master, is it thus
That you have come again to us?'
I held my lady's ice-cold hand,
They bore the hurdle past her;
Why should they go so soft and slow?
It matters not to master.

There was an Old Person of Cheadle,
Who was put in the stocks by the beadle
For stealing some pigs,
Some coats, and some wigs,
That horrible person of Cheadle.

blue stationary
no bigger than my hand
black blood
nearly as thick as our crimson ones
collided

folding the paper, i keep it
my pocket was full that day
and so i emptied it

empty, empty, empty
but not as empty
as you made me feel
afterwards

picture-taking, hugging, dancing
singing at the top of our lungs
throats going hoarse
friendly "i love you" 's

wishing can **** you

before you left
i ran

hug him, one last time
come on

so i did

eyes downcast, i stuffed my feelings
into your left breast pocket
and ran away

i stood from a safe distance
so near, yet so far
as i watched you read the paper

eyes that resemble the dark soil
where trees are planted and that absorbs sunlight
grew wide behind your glasses
the color of pink roses dusted your cheeks
as if cherry blossom petals began to grow on you

silently, you keep the paper
as other eyes began to pry
you sent me little look that i caught
and our eyes met

you've never turned away so quickly away from me
until then

later that day
in the confines of my school bus
i texted you

i'm sorry for running out on you
and just stuffing the letter in your pocket
but
i'm not sorry for giving it
and
...
yeah
sorry.

you texted me later on,

it's alright

march eighteen
the day before our finals
you stopped texting me.

ever since then,
our eyes avoided each other
nicknames
drowned like fishes that were poisoned
holding hands
became nothing but a memory
jackets
lost their warmth
pen-tapping
was nothing but noise

and smiling
became nothing

however, on the last day of school
you came to me
you, whose eyes still continued to
avoid mine
slowly turned to face me

the cherry blossoms
looked so beautiful on your
pimple decorated cheeks

i thought
that you were there to talk to me
to say that you liked me back
that i was pretty
that you
needed me too

ah, but
you didn't

you
never
will

you were there for your other friends
friends that were my friends too
friends,
who cheered me on after i gave you the letter
when all others laughed at me

friends
that mean more to you
than i ever will

you stride through the halls
and wait as they came out
knowing full well
i was doing the same

you and i
face to face
on different sides
of the hallway
hands holding onto backpacks
eyes avoiding each other
glasses slightly off the edge

our friends soon came out
and the time for us to truly part
was near

maybe you knew it too

before i left, you tapped me on the shoulder
"Hey,"

i smiled a small smile of melancholy
"Hey."

"Enjoy your summer, Linsanity."

that *****
no bigger than my fist
clenched like it
it cracked
shattered
and was pierced
by the sheer happiness
innocence
on your face

ah,
i
see

it hurts, it hurts
it hurts so much

"You too."

and so,
we parted
you passed north
and i,
south.

your secret nickname was
gone
your public nickname was
gone
all that was left
was your last name
and it tasted
bitter
on my tongue

yet
why
am i
still
"linsanity"
to you?