sjsprWriting

It doesn’t feel like a goodbye. Goodbyes are quiet, grief-stricken creatures. Ones that cling to your knee caps as you try to move past, one foot in front of the other, anchors at your ankles. They move into your lungs, weigh down every breath. They fill you with a palpable desolation.

Goodbyes are ruin.

This is that wave you throw over your shoulder when you’re fighting past the kids in the hallway because your mother’s already called thr...

It all happened suddenly.

The walls grew larger and closer.

The ceiling was dripping down.

The tiles cracked like arid desolation.

The light hummed, quivered, popped.

The shards fell and turned to white dust.

You were there to see it all.

You didn’t move even when that disaster scathed your being.

It all happened instantly.

The floor trembled beneath you.

The windows s...

When we were 11 and a half

we talked about forever like it was an insurance plan

and created milky ways out of the dust on our parent’s bookshelves

But even then we knew that summer had to end

so we found mystery in the ducky pond down the street

and traced our desires into the crooks of each other’s necks

We left semicolons where a sentence could have ended, but didn’t.

Sometimes I pretend that I ca...

It’s a weird feeling when life changes. Not only in the “wow I’m graduating high school sense” but in the “wow everything is probably going to change sense”.

This might seem slightly dramatic to some but it is a huge turn in my life at least. Most of the faces I see almost everyday, I have seen for the past 14 years of my life. Classmates, other students, teachers, administrators, staff.

Sure there were p...

Please stop calling.
Stop begging me to "stay".
What are bloody knuckles worth in a fight against yourself?
Put them down.
I cannot handle the anger that condenses inside me as it hits me over and over again,
that you only miss me when you run out of thems.
I waited, and tried, but now your text messages make me flinch,
and in my mind, I can only visualize the crazy in your eyes,
as they pierced me with hatred and obsession.
I don't want this.
Realize...

It was 9:38 PM and Kvon was reflecting on life. With just one day left of school, a huge chapter in Kvon's life was coming to a close.

He dusted off and old notebook he had, and found a list of goals. For the most part, he had accomplished them.

Ace the PSAT? Check.

Get into college? Check.

Kiss a girl? There was plenty of time left for that.

Find peace? Uhh...

Kvon's feud with Desi had taken ...

NOT MINE!

Five Reasons Not to Fall in Love With A Poet
- [d.a.s]

1. They will spend countless hours on the phone,

reciting things they wrote about you.

They will tell you “your eyes are an endless ocean

And your freckles are spattered constellations

I fell in love with you in Autumn

Because the leav...

I'm sorry for all of the disappointments,

and for the shattered pieces of porcelain on the ground,

and the watermarks,

though I should have known. 

I'm sorry for the impossible demands

I'm sorry for the waxy birthday cake, 

I don't think any of us could have put the flames out fast enough. 

I'...

but not all the time. no, definitely not all the time. I especially don't think so when you're standing, or existing off in some corner and blabbering on to someone who may or may not care about what you're saying.

No, those are the times where you are definitely the least sexy. 

I think you're sexy when I can't see you, or when you're not here, and you have a faraway look on your face.
-when you haven't spoken a damn word.

I've become quite apalled at the dirtiness of my own feet lately. I don't care, really. About dirty feet. It's just that I see my own, and suddenly, I'm assaulted with memories of the times you and I would walk around and gather gravelstones and tears under the calluses of our feet, and of mothers who care too much about the shades of unclean they are, what the others might think.  
They're always so dirty now. 

It's been like this ever since I got back, which is odd....