i am sitting in a building i wish was on fire
me sitting still trapped inside it
not wishing for anyone to find me just
hoping i pass out before my insides start boiling

i am in class with a man i hope would choke
eyes locked with mine
i don’t want him to die just understand
what the vice these assignments have around me

i forgot how much i enjoyed seeing life stay silent
still as i watch from above.
trees brush past the windows reaching for life
eyes trained on one spot forever changing.
on the other side of these panes of glass life is loud
quivering along with heartbeats of plenty
breath pushes past all kinds of lips and it’s finding life stilled only long enough to be taken in.

blank billboards on the side of the highway
i go home to a place i’ll probably forget
the only time i see your face it’s in blank space
forever frozen in time
memories become memorials
screens replace faces
and i am caught between missing these moments
and longing for your looks in life

we are tearing down the walls between childhood and the rest of our lives and i fear we’re ill prepared.

i can feel the residual innocence of unbridled emotion underneath the label of immaturity resting atop you ribs and i am sorry.
i’m sorry we took you for granted,
sorry you’re sick of finding yourself,
sorry that sorry feels empty.
i know you’re waiting for the day it makes you whole.

we’re all trying so hard to be good people we’ve forgotten what it’s like to be a person.

i can see you filing away your feelings in false order so not even you can find them and i fear all this filing doesn’t equate to functioning and i’m sorry.
i’m sorry we aren’t your people,
sorry that ignorance is your bliss,
sorry that no one really knows you.
i know you’re trying to teach us in a way we’ll learn.

we are caught in the throes of change and tossing out the parts of us we need touched.

i can hear the ways in which you throw your thoughts aside for someone who refuses to acknowledge they notice you and i am sorry.
i’m sorry we can’t make up for it,
sorry this is the thing you need,
sorry you aren’t being seen.
i know all you want is to be the one looked back at.

we are winging our way through a new world full of wonders and wandering through ourselves.

i know hard i worked my whole life for something for it to become the thing that’s made me worse and i think i am sorry.
i’m sorry it’s not getting better,
sorry i put my faith in a falsehood,
sorry the illness isn’t situational.
i know how i wanted it to not all be on me.

i don’t recall becoming my own mother
not quite sure when i began to bandage my bleeds
and make sure i break down where nobody sees.

i just want to be held in the arms of my mother
almost need her arms around my slouched shoulders
holding me up between shoulder blades.

i remember always getting hit by my own mother
loving faces became toxic embraces and she touched down harder every time i fought her.

i wish i knew why i always have to help my mother
guide her through the gutter and back to another
god i miss having a mother