Where We Go

I was told to get

a ‘real’ job

when my ‘real’ job

didn’t seem to fit

the description of

what they called 

a ‘reality’. 


it is alien to

stay inside all day

and apparently 

it is even weirder 

to stay inside all day and write. 

Perhaps I’m an alien 

but they didn’t like that

so I guess

I wasn’t an alien 

or at least not to them. 

I was useless 

I was wasting my time

but time to them

wasn’t the issue

it was the boldness 

in which I did


it frightened them

how I managed to

do what I loved 

and somehow 


I somehow survived

for a few months

I didn’t really need

a lot 

but they needed 

everything and they

needed to feel 


and that’s the- 

the expectations had risen 

and the expectations

we’re expecting me

to fit


and I refused 

to fit 


and so

they put me 


and I quite liked it




I light another;

my mouth’s burning,

my tongue sticking

to my teeth-

but the flame,

it’s warming my

insides with something-

at least, something. 

So, I light another,

then another;

my eyes burn,

all that I once saw

is breaking like ash

at my fingertips,

and the flame,

it still burns,

burns a hole right 

from my throat 

to my stomach-


I light another,

the sun falls under

the weight of the moon;


Trees twist,

blowing in the wind-

I should really quit. 

One and Six

I want,

so badly,

to belong

in this,

to be

a part

of this; 

to wake

each morning 

and know,

know this 

will be

waiting, waiting

at the 

door, which 

remains open,

just as

long as


I want,

so desperately,

to belong 

in this,

to be 

a part

of this; 

to have

faith in

the knowledge 

that I 

am good

at this,

belong in 

this, am

in this;

whatever ‘this’ 

may be.