Sometimes when I see lights,
I see burning flame.
People are synonymous with exit signs,
And I keep searching
for a way out of the fire.
we’re all just different points on a map,
reaching for something or someone.
we build train tracks
take cars to people,
in hopes of finding homes
in their bodies.
we must remember—
we are a bundle of our own
be careful of who you travel for
or youll forget how to come home.
i flip pages hoping to find something that explains how im feeling. lays it out into delicate sentences slicing the air with their potency but instead i end up empty handed with too many words jumbled up in my chest. words are meaningless when they don’t make situations any better but words are the only thing that helps me comprehend what’s going on. explanations are my weakness and i crave conversation like the way a river works to follow a current no matter what rocks are in its path. poor choices go hand in hand with my decision making but i don’t have the letters in my dictionary to form the word “regret” so instead i take leftover letters to spell “learning” and “youth” and hope their definitions come to you instead of me speaking them. my wildest dreams are the ones where i simply understand what’s happening in them and my favorite moments are the ones where i can slow my thinking enough that i can enjoy the present without worrying about every other footnote of clockwork at the same time. my favorite sense is sight because people-watching helps me learn more about each motion i create and i watch everything more than anyone in my surroundings to the point where i don’t have the time to talk even when i need to. i am broken but i am learning to love all my pieces and how they don’t fit together easily. because simplicity isn’t always beautifully minimalistic but instead quite boring when it locks hands with purpose. i love holding hands because it makes me feel like there’s something to grasp to and the future is my favorite bed to go to sleep in because the past is a dirty mattress i don’t have the nerves to throw away but i can still find comfort in the uneasiness left behind. i love rainy days more than sun because people’s truest colors come out when nothing is shining down on them. being alone is the only time i feel like home because home was nothing more than an empty room with hollow voices screaming through plaster walls and when im alone i hear those voices screaming back, only quieter. and i love to write because words fall apart in my mouth and taste bitter when i say them but nothing makes me feel happier than when im surrounded by company. i get anxiety over every little thing but the big things don’t faze me until it’s too late and spending years in a hospital bed only taught me it’s safer to not think about every consequences because bad things will happen anyways because nobody’s really in control. i love green because there’s comfort in blending into the grass, even when it’s walked over, it’s still grows and i believe in everything and nothing at the same time because my mind switches from emotion to emotion like jumping over cracks on a sidewalk. i love, love and i try to love all people but the hardest is always myself.