from Per. 4 on Mon., 3/28

Brother falls witness
to lack of true fitness,
just reckless abandonment
and a horrible destructive stint.


-----


The snow barricade
keeps me inside with
hot cocoa and Netflix.

these few days I
have left at home
are the ones I'll
remember.

The days I  have left with
my mother.


-----


One light
and off.

One more
and off.

Carrying her out
bare hip bones
pierce the cold
cement.

from Period 1 on Mon., 3/28

The echo fills the
gaps of the cathedral.

The shine of light
piercing through the
walls as the note
hits the last

climax

cutoffs of echos
travel throughout.


-----


Uncomfortable
conversations
as he interrupts
my music-zen
as sweat leaks down
my body in the heat
of a 24 hour fitness
sauna.


-----


Today
I'm not feeling poetic
actually.

I'll take time aside
to watch the world

before I write it.

from p.4 on Mon., March 8th

Silence.

Sparked by grades.

Silence.

Sparked by incentive.


-----


Beautiful snowy mountain,
standing tall,
leaving people in awe.


-----


My poetic voice sounds
like that cliche
d-bag beatnick at
Starbucks who tells
everyone he's working
on an anti-social media
anti-capitalism screenplay.

You know the one.


-----


Metaphorical gold
hidden quartz
literally under
the railroad
tracks.

from per. 1 on Monday, March 8th

Big furry and slumbering,
groggy almost lumbering,
big and fierce and
groggy from sleep
brawling around.
I'm in a cave so deep.


-----


An awkward kid,

With jean overalls,

Big square glasses
& bad acne,

Somehow cool,

Because he is himself.


-----


Like a conversation underwater,
incoherent and bubbling.
Trying to make sense of the words
when in actuality neither
would make sense
on land.


-----


Like the type of weather
where the ground is light
airy, and warm,
but the sky is dark
threatening, and rolling.

from Per. 4 on Mon., 2/29

Don't paint me black

when I used to be gold.

-----

Why leave us behind?

Why does it leave

us, the people

behind in the dust.

-----

Letting go

is harder than

just opening a hand

and letting

things drop.

from Per. 1 on Mon., 2/29

Roughly textured trees,

to cover graffiti.

Little hopes and reams,

to replace gang signs and,

stitch the seams.

-----

I'm sorry 

but not too sorry.

Sometimes everyone needs to say sorry. Step back.

Watch teh clouds and sunrise, the breze and trees.

See the people, then, around you as though

you've seen them long before.

Think of the stories surrounding, the goals and the dreams--

a destiny in our destinations.

I didn't always see you before.

I'm sorry.

-----

Pick up the broken pieces

but don't hold onto them.

They're not a keepsake,

they're a treasure.

Give them to someone

who has unconditional love.

The pain exists through

the cracks.

Pick up the broken pieces.

Mend them together, at last.

-----

Take your cautions,

Take your chances.