There's nothing to do.
There. I said it.
At least finally someone did.
The house is empty.
The books have all been read.
The games have all been played.
Now I'm so bored I'm gonna end up dead.
Like, all I have to do is write [crap] poems.
It's so exciting!
Don't you agree?

Off the edge
We took from another life
Seeing Your
face is a cold reprise

Thinning down
collapsed against the wall
Our shared sense
Of being lost again

We only run
Once there's nowhere left to hide

Trees only bear so much fruit
The grass can only be so green
Writers block can only block so much
Snow can only fall so fast
And now
Ideas can only come in a blue moon

My poems are garbled thoughts moulded into a predictable structure

                                                      ­if
                   i
                                     change
                                                          ­     what
             is
                            expected



does that mean my writing is worthy of praise?

There's something in the air,
cold winter stares.
Carrion of the deer seems fair
and the sun stops its glares.

The pack of wolves left,
leaving their food untouched.
For a moment,
the feast was great,
but the storms greater.
The pack howled for the unseen moon,
retreating to their home, their shelter.

Carrion of the deer seems fair
with the snow and nature's affair.

Her words, a steady stream
I tried
To smile, stifling a yawn my glazed eyes wandering over to
Our bookshelf the recently bought ACT prep book aligned with a
More appealing Children’s poetry

“But then she was like”
My attention snaps back to the present
And I smile and nod
Like I understand, which I do, don’t get me wrong I just

May have forgotten to change the towel
And the clothes in the dryer
Oh also, i still haven’t gotten around to that essay
My current average really doesn’t sit well with me not to mention
The excercises for-

“And I was like ***!”
I unintentionally smile, the same story
The same pattern again
Never ending, seemingly
What is this, some sort of drama of a stereotypical teenage girl?
Is there secretly a film crew behind the scenes
A script inserted in our brains
Of this monotonous constant
Unending story?

But maybe if I’m truly unsatisfied,
The fact that I’m
Right here, right now
Feeling it, proves
That I have the capacity to desire change
And maybe,
Achieve it?

are you actually laughing?
did you fall of your seat because it was that funny?

or was it just a silent filler,
filling those awkward pauses just so you can start another conversation.

was it just an automatic response that doesn't have real meaning?
did it make you LOL
or ROFL?

i didn't think so.
it wasn't that funny.

-D.L

i will stay silent
i will bore you
i am an island
you are not included
     (yet)

i've told you more than i've ever told others
i want to say more, but i don't want to smother
i don't want to say too much
i don't want to be left with regret
but i don't want us to lose touch
i just don't know how to connect