grey.

the way i view things are backwards
to how most perceive truth to be.
i feel discouraged in the differences
forgot how to blink; my eyes are bloodshot
focus fixated on the ceiling waiting
on the puzzle pieces to fit together
but you were away and i am missing,
becoming more and more invisible
with every breath and heartbeat.

fighting is bad, silence is the worst.

silent, i cannot say what i really want to say.
connections are invisible; i put my faith in what i don’t see.
reaching out is unbearable, my white skin burns in the sun,
every moment seems like forever, and i take off the mask for
air. for a small grain of truth, i would do anything.
might i ask for something tangible?

an excerpt of a newspaper.

and i thought this was to be forgotten
rain running through words and columns
spreading and bleeding into nothing as faded memories
why do i not realize the steadiness of this truth?
and nothing will change except the decay of human life?