Friday, July 3, 2015. Could you be more in awe of the shape I am taking? Methuselah, at age 969, exasperated and blasé and calm to a fault, waits by the oven for toast. It blackens with a crunch, and Methuselah, at age 969, crunched and blackened himself, takes a mouthful. Monday, March 30, 2015. Ella, born with blonde in her hair and a strong jaw, takes the bus to school. They are typically good listeners, or at least they are polite enough to pretend.

Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same. Sunday, July 12, 2015. This chapter in my life is over. Two horrible, beautiful years. To be honest, it ended a year ago. I was still in love with the words. I was still in love with him. Well i guess i still am. Because they are no longer mine.

Friday, August 8, 2014. I want the last line of this poem to open every window in this joint. I want the last line to make you cold. Make you wonder for the rest of the night. For the rest of your life. I want the last line of this poem to make you fall in love with me. I just want you to see it. I want the last line to make you jealous. It could be your last meal request.

Tuesday, June 16, 2015. People always ask me why I still work here, my answer is the people. These are my letters to some of those people. Hope that goes well for you. Please Shush and stay in your corner. Do your freaking job! .

Friday, July 3, 2015. You know how water only has a taste if it is different from what you normally drink? This is my life and I am finally tasting the water. Wednesday, June 24, 2015. Do you live to write? 160; Or was that just a phase? Do you not remember the days that all you spoke in your brain was poetry? Or how you could captivate your reader by just speaking your mind? Or how when you read the poetry of random people you felt their pain? Oh, wait that never happened.

Because i need to embrace my crazy. because you wouldnt love me if i wasnt out of my freaking mind. because crazy and socially incorrect is who i am. because if i were any different, i would be so boring. because im just thinking out loud. Wednesday, August 19, 2015. K so imma try to keep my language under control. But i honestly am still so mad at you. I hope it was worth it because now. I cant trust you with crap. Know how i said i would not. Because if i cant even trust you. To be real with me about.

What Happened When Our Lips Locked. All the hardest, coldest people you meet were once as soft as water. Saturday, July 11, 2015. My street has milk cartons for houses,. Paper-thin walls decomposing with every spoonful of sugar. Last night i heard her bed frame beat against the wall like fists. But i think about him sometimes.

Friday, November 14, 2014. Hello from the trampoline we used to jump on. from the dried flowers on my desk. the sleeping pills in the trash. your stuffed bear in my arms. I miss you from the driveway where you lingered. from ancient greek class wednesday nights. the chair i hang my bag on. your shirt on my shoulders. But how to look at my hands. For four hours a day.