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27 dawn edges its fingers over the sill almost as if it is afraid to disturb me; sometimes I wish I could bottle it, frame it, pluck a thread from ...

1 Some mornings, I wake to an alienating fog sulking in my room like a ghost of yesterday, or the day before. It tastes copper, or tin, something metal-like, a ...

26 The only beautiful thing I've found about sadness is its absence. When you wake, stretch, taste the sun with your curious fingers, and promise yourself that today will be ...

25 I miss the rawness that my words used to have. I think that I used to stand around open mouthed and curious a lot more than I do now, ...

24 maybe someday you will see how thoroughly you left me behind, how I'm waiting and waiting, like a dog tied up in telephone wires, a missed call, a voice ...

23 there are blossoms pushing their way from you. sometimes, you're a storm. the tremble driven angry parts of the night when I tell myself that being afraid is silly, ...

1 Some mornings, I wake to an alienating fog sulking in my room like a ghost of yesterday, or the day before. It tastes like something metal: copper, or tin, ...

This is a rewrite of 13-- anyone wanna tell me/give me feedback on which is better? I could cut your fingers on a morning like this. I move gentle, careful ...

22.5 it's so scary to me how we all learn to hate ourselves at some time or another like it's bred into us, taught to us in between "trust in ...

21 the cold eats us like it does autumn. the more we grow the more room we have to echo. sometimes I feel like a cavern. 21.5 perhaps you will ...

20 we've broken down like old flat tires threading and holy and waiting on something like the side of the road, where the dusk deepens, where the weeds grow, where ...

19 I wrote myself a Bible last night. I grew up banging bibles against my chest like a great beast of scripture and servitude, but last night I talked to ...

18 an angry juxtaposition of affirmation, greed, and lust "money is just paper but it affects people like poetry" I would sell my soul for something like that, for a ...

Damn straight.

17 the ferocity of our anger and outrage, and love, is dulled by too many knives taken to our hands, too many scars scratched into our backs or old words ...