I don't know how to hate you anymore. Even though I want to. I really want to and I know I should but I just can't
I press my palm to the small pane of glass and feel the cold clasp my hand in a familiar embrace. We are both alone, both existing as he absence of something else.
Raindrops are my only reminder that clouds have a heartbeat and that I have one too
Sometimes I think the loneliness inside of me is going to explode through my skin and sometimes I'm not sure if crying or screaming or laughing through the hysteria will solve anything at all. Sometimes I'm so desperate to touch to be touched to feel that I'm almost certain I'm going to fall off a cliff into an alternate universe where no one will ever be able to find me. It doesn't seem possible. I've been screaming for years and no one has ever heard me
I'm oxygen and he's dying to breathe
Find me cure for these tears. I'd really like to exhale for the first time in my life
Hope is a pocket of possibility
My life is four walls of missed opportunities poured into concrete molds
The moon understands what its like to be human. Uncertain. Alone. Cratered by imperfections
In the absence of human relationships I formed bonds with paper characters
26 letters are all I need. I can stitch them together to create oceans and ecosystems. I can fit them together to form planets and solar systems. I can use letters to construct skyscrapers and metropolitan cities populated by people, places, things, and ideas that are more real to me than these four walls. I need nothing but letters to live
There will be a bird today. It will be white with streaks of gold like a crown atop its head. It will fly.
"Because if I lower my voice, I won't be able to hear myself speak. And that," he says, "is my favorite part."
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