Forever-My-Cookie

two in one sounds like a great deal expect when it is your head. because no matter how many oval, bitter tasting pills you swallow you are broken and c a n n o t b e f i x e d. hours under cotton, woven by some underpaid worker you spent hours protesting her conditions about a month ago are spent laying doing nothing being who you may or may not be. is that the question asked the most: w h o a m i r e a l l y? am i loving and soda pop at 2am with friends, laughing at some professor’s mustache or am i alone at 4am knowing everything will go shatter, fall through my fingers like it does through my mind? as a child, the swings wer

I am a statue: Unmoving, Unwavering, Unloving.... yours.

To be loved by anyone else Would be an insult to my heart; it would break into eleven thousand and seven pieces each one a step away from the start.

 If I could crawl up inside you, Next to that glorious heart of yours that Is so ever expanding, I still don’t think I’d be close enough. Even if my life consisting of listening To your light heart beat steadily And rapidly to the pace of your day, I’d do more to make sure you stay.

I could bottle the galaxy, Thousands of stars in an empty glass Coke, Each one dying, decaying, at it’s own rate. They would twinkle and wink and be full of other’s dreams, But in a bottle they’d be, for us to behold and see.

If innocence is ignorance There really is no difference.

If I could live forever I would. I want to watch the earth devoured By its greed and the miserable misunderstood I want to see their triumph; Their victory. The terrible solution to humanity, The outcry of many at the irony and contradictory. If I could live forever I’d die. Because in the end it won’t be man But rather a sky lit up like the fourth of July.

People are naturally dreamers. At least, that is what I believe. But I think there is a reason Why the stars are so high And we are so low Though, some things should be kept secret And not for all to know

A faint flush of blue crowded by angry coals; the sky holds her breath.

it's the twenty-first of may, twenty-thirteen. i am thinking of you. again. i often have to stop myself from asking which brother he's talking about, especially when he keeps bringing up the times before you left. i want to talk about you, but he's so indifferent that i can't bring myself to bother him. it's hard to have a conversation anymore when thoughts of you hang in the air between us, tangible like silk and harder to grasp. i know he doesn't see you splitting the air with your memory but i do, and it stings like hot iron. i wish i could wash you from my my skin and veins, if only for a brief time, but that would be like trying to stop

I am sitting in the back garden like my bones are reclining chairs and my browbeaten headaches will eb out like the tide if I only stare down the blues for long enough. The grass is sweet like lipgloss on a magazine page, rests with a coolness I cannot hold to wrap my lungs around while my lips taste like cigarette burns. My feet are in the light, in the heat. My toes flex like dying worms as they stretch out over the other half of this bench, nestled tight under the windows. Maybe I'm waiting for you to press your face against the glass and shout until I can hear you over my music, instead of in it. Maybe I am waiting for you to sit down bes

This is the kind of love that sits next to you on a porch forty years from now watching the sun set. This is the kind of love that wants to be wrapped in your arms every night and receive a kiss from you every morning. This is the kind of love that will you hold you when you cry, and smile just because you’re smiling. This is the kind of love that watches you read to its children, and receive sticky father’s day cards. This is the kind of love that wants to slow dance with you more than once. This is the kind of love that transcends foolish prince charming puppies and completely skips over lusty honeymooners. This is the kin

i've realized i miss you most in the summer. when we were together, we belonged to the cold; trees would lose their leaves, winter winds would blow, but the summer was ours. it was a time when we could leave essays and exams behind and start dreaming. a time for stargazing and raindancing and treeclimbing. for the wild. for us. i feel so out of place. in the light of a bonfire or the wind of a highway, i find myself thinking: you would have loved this. and i get lost in memories of running through a subway station, reaching for lights across the dark ocean or swinging by a lake and dangling our feet in the stars. this has always been a seas

sometimes the dark is unforgiving, just the universe and you. among the constellations, you're just a star, there's no world outside of you. money cannot be stacked high enough to reach the heavens, money cannot erase time or buy time or stop time. there is no ctrl+z, no gift receipt, for life or our time here. when we die our slate is white but while we live, the world is green. we auction off our feelings and hope someone will know what it means. but meanwhile, we are tied to earth, our money our worth, our savior our anchor. i never knew empty space could weigh so much, i never knew that dreams could be a crutch. i'

Part I: This Waste(of a )land north east south west the universe divided into cardinal directions each of us lost each of us found out of balance and oblivious naked vulnerable flesh to flame heart to break love to meaninglessness we float aboard this orb lonely in a sea of 7 billion creatures alive but never completely unaware walking comas unsure of our destinations not caring enough to find out who, what, when, where, why, and how we are we hold on so desperately to the things we hope are real hungrily grabbing at any chance to see the light any branch or stone we can use to pull ourselves out of

dearest dead,          i can taste your death in the dregs of my tea (tea is such a melancholy thing). when i see your stark beauty plagiarized on canvas, when i leave 3 candles lit in constant vigil, when i remember the soft rhythm        of your careful footsteps down this now abandoned hall, the sudden collection of dust on my organs is almost palpable and the delicate toothpicks supporting outward appearances snap about halfway to broken.          it takes my breath away to realize how much i miss you. i feel it deep in my ribcage as my everything collapses onto an ohsovulnerable chest. no wonder they call it a rib cage because