How simple I feel.

I don't have to be here.
Everyone's directing me to the door, whispering:
"You're free to leave."
But I'm persistent and I stay.
If not for just another day.
I do not have to be here.

I am involuntarily tethered.
I'm chained to the scuffed floors,
the scratched desks, the lite graffiti
scrawled on the whiteboard.
To this dirty and slowly absolved atmosphere,
to the ending of another year.
Even if I'm not a part of that end,
rather, a transitional ghost.

I know that I am just one part
of one cog in an ever-rotating
cluster of carousel gears.
But now that we are rusted,
this is not our end.
This is part of my forever.
This is part of our forever.
We are something bigger.
I can rest knowing we are giants,
in a thick forest
that comes up
only to our shoulders


Haunt Texture

Disengaged, tired.
Collapsing but too afraid to say it.
My fingers can not move from
Sleep paralysis.
13 hours in bed.
The sun is out, the shades are closed.
The water has left my eyes.
I've lost all will to write.
I am not getting up.
Anytime soon.

I am tumbling
I want to be there.
But my heart is slow.
And I am not getting up.


I Expected The World To Break Open Today.

I expected the world to break open today.
For my house to be lifted,
For lightning to topple trees,
And angry branches would smother me.

But nature hardly breathed,
Wrapped itself in tinted cellophane,
And slowly closed its eyes.

And in the morning, it will disrobe,
Stretch a bit, and I will still wonder
What it means to fight for something.