Collage

Doctors don't call them thigh bones and knee bones.
I want to know the femurs and tiblas of life,
a specialization of terms to catapult me toward triteness,
to a dry, sandy persona.

nobody
wants to shit sparkles
and spit shimmers
for the rest of their life,
to remain deaf to a plethora of words
full of sharp, biting consonants
and multi-syllabic greek roots.

Zeppelins out of air-balloons,
Fernticles out of freckles,
Fantods out of fidgets,
Meldrops out of mucus,
Ululation out of wails,

I'll utilize them with such superfluous,
bombastic adeptness that my peers will need
to ladle their way
out of our daily
conversations.

Perfection Attempted.

Whispering fog emerges from the air, waiting for true acknowledgment.
Rather than masking nature, enhances it.
Colors gain not vibrancy, but meaning,
Only if you really look.

The dying shimmers of a crying sun, bloodied from wounds not seen.
Rays leap to escape their cold prison of space,
shine beauty for a last hope at life.
Success judged by human reactions in art.

Mist and foam mix for a concoction truly unique,
not of color, but feeling of sovereignty over others.
Conceit forgotten, perfection attempted,

Nature asks,
You decide.

Exile.

Twilight's intricacies,
interrupted.
Bruised existence pushed into solitude,
Dried, crusted wax of a candle proving darkness.

Continuous grasps at hypothetical light;
Sent tumbling forward, failed.
A bleeding soul is twisted and robbed,
Left grey and limping.

Moist air in a cavern recess provides prison,
Exile from the universe's utopia of life.

Understanding.

We accept what we're given,
entirely as ours.
To mold, to alter, and to destroy.

We're wrong.

It's all here to be understood.
Look, draw, write, appreciate.
Appreciate.

That's how we could be right.
Now, live!

Lying to myself

I savor the brisk Friday afternoon on campus, witnessing freed students cut through the wind rather than greeting it. They step like mice; must mean their next engagement is important. But it’s disheartening—even at ten past three I see serious, if not grim, faces. I catch you breaking through the human commotion with ease. I could infer people were repelling off you instead, but it’s always difficult to tell. Either way, you stand there as if you were the pinnacle of independence. You look like you can rule the world. You don’t want company. And you at least don’t deserve my company. 
So why am I your prisoner? How come obsession thwarts me from wiping you out of my mind? I’ve tried many times. Sometimes I’ll maneuver my thoughts ‘till I’m certain all I’ve known about you is a ruse. You’re not an admirable delinquent, just another clever mastermind ready to strike. You should be a mistake; you should be the test some higher power has sent to trick me into stumbling. 
But I want to stumble. You’ve made everything confusing, if not interesting. The world all of a sudden becomes a place worth and not worth living in, knowing I can dedicate myself to a fantasy, a ghostly vision that will never come true.
I am the pawn. You are the knight. And at the moment, you are winning.

Lucky I’m getting picked up soon.

BANTER

“Say, one of these days we need to just pack our bags and seek release without looking so suspicious. I’m so tired of everything. Society will not cement us into a spick-and-span structure. I’d rather accept myself as the stray, as the shadows they’re too afraid to enter. We will be the embers of their old, withered grass.”
  I am listening, but not intently. Call me rude, but it’s only at the last remark that I raise my head and look at the speaker. Despite his childish eyes, it really seems like he wants to grow up.
  “Ugh, that last metaphor was terrible,” I say with a smirk. “Thank God you’re not a poet.”
  “Did you ask where we’d go?” Ignorance is bliss.
  “No, I was saying—”
  Too late. He continues. “My eyes point toward a shack and a bathroom and a hospital...” 
  I abruptly recognize that his eyes cannot manage to stay steady while he is saying this. 
  “Then we’d be able to lock ourselves tightly away from consciousness. We’d develop more of our philosophies and start fresh. Start simpler. Lovelier. But we can go wherever you want to go, I guess.”
  For a moment, I’m flattered he wants to start his whole life-renewal process with me. I feel slightly at fault for dismissing what he’s said earlier and commenting on his metaphor. It wasn’t that bad.
  Luckily, my guilt vanishes before I can apologize, and I ask, “If that’s the case, how about the wilderness?”
  “Huh?”
  “Wouldn’t that be a better place to escape from civilization?”
  “…I never thought of that.”
  “How could you not? You can basically do anything there without getting caught. Maybe by connecting with nature, we’d understand the world better. And, like I said, the sky’s the limit there. Lighting matches would be the only exception, though. They’d probably bust us for that.”
  “We could…do anything there?”
  He’s taken the bait!
  “Yeah. It’d be like My Side of the Mountain. We’d probably befriend some dorky bird to use as our predator and navigator. We’d sleep in trees and dance with wolves. I bet we’d even learn how to speak raccoon.”
  He chuckles at this statement before contemplating its real value.
  “Very funny.” His sarcasm is dryer than I expected. Maybe I went too far. Fortunately he smiles, saying, “For a moment there you sounded really convincing.”
  “Much more convincing than what you were thinking of.”
  “Shut up!” 
  He punches me. Playfully. I relish it.
  I say, “I think your idea isn’t all that bad. But the poetic language made it hard to understand. Were you trying to sound smart?”
  “Yeah. What else were you thinking?”
  “Oh, nothing.”

Brighten my day

I just wanted to say something good
Something beautiful
Something amazing
Something that will make you smile
Because I love to see you happy

I just wanted to say something good
Because your smile always makes my day
I just wanted to say something nice
Because seeing you happy makes me happy.