pop rock heart

if you cut open my chest

and put pop rocks on my heart

i think it would tingle nice |

cover the whole thing

in crystalline sugar gems

good enough to eat |

when I’m all patched up

i’ll rise, they’ll fall

throughout my body

dip into my bloodstream maybe

being sucked up like black holes |

pixie stick through my nose

as a fifteen year old

all i got was a cold |

kool aid smoke

hit my brain

I got angry then |

it’s all i have

it’s all i want

it’s all i know |||

The In-Betweens

No more games, no more projects.

I’m removing the restraints, deconstructing the dam.

Let it all flow, the waterfall I’ve been bottling up.

Every excuse I get, I’m gonna put it right here –

even if no one cares.


I’ve realized I have nothing to report on my increasingly sad life

except the fact that I’m home all the time,

enraptured by quality television.

A stagnant purgatory of a 21st century making.

I force myself to regurgitate specific times of my day,

but it’s all really pathetic jabber – nothing monumental or important.

My funds flushing away as I still refuse to give up “the dream”.

As I get increasingly fatter. But what is body image, anyway?

This is just a vessel to hold my spirit.

Life’s short.


I’m sorry I can’t pull more passion forth.

Thankfully not in love and I guess this is what the in-betweens feel like:

Indifferent apathy.

I’m rattling my cage though. The wave must crash, the sun must rise, the moon must wax and wane.

Get in my head, my soul. I want to tell you all about it one day.

This is rest before the unknown beginning.

It will make for excellent storytelling.

C’mon, Time – I hope you’re on my side.

The Kid In The Corner With The Eyeglasses On

I’m 23 years old and sometimes I still get that feeling I don’t fit in.

There’s an awkwardness that accompanies me everywhere I go.

An uncertain hesitation that constantly occupies my mind.

Some days it’s easier to sweep under the rug.

I think belonging and acceptance are quintessential to life

because think about the times when humans roamed the Earth as nomads;

We were part of clans, tribes, families. We traveled, laughed, cried, suffered, and died together.

We were part of a community that aided our physical and mental selves.

It’s a different type of loneliness that I could probably cry in the dark to.

There’s always two sides to every coin,

three sides to every story,

and an infinite number of feelings that get so easily trampled on by the slightest movement.

A moving rainbow swirling in and out. A spiral.

The “cool” factor so convincingly persuades me that high school never ended. It’s still ongoing:

There’s an in-crowd to every clique, to every clique a flag

waved in your face – A reminder you don’t belong.

With all our resources tapped out,

when we stand in the dark naked

staring ourselves down in the mirror,

trying to reach out and touch our own soul,

who are you then?

That’s what I’m trying to figure out.