PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Its sleepy gray in my new city,

cold and windy and so different.

I am alive in my deadness,

because everyone else is at home doing what

they always do and I'm not.

It might not be so amazing here but

at least I dove in and got more than a sip.

at least when i die i can honestly say

my life was a fucking trip.

The intensity is pain,

the intensity is constant,

and i love it,

oh how i suffer,

and oh how i thrive.

at least when i die i can honestly say

fuck, when i lived i was alive.



Sometimes, in the elevator,

i imagine that it is the only thing in the universe

and the doors will never open,

i will zip around in my metal box through darkness forever.

i enjoy the thought for awhile until the doors open.

the fact is, i might stress too much about

getting everything right, perfect, straight A's and

fun raves and good parties.

Maybe i just need to chill and smoke weed and not care

about the four midterms i have when i come back from

the late nights of vacations in LA

and visits with lovers.

Maybe today is, what today is,

a lazy ride in an elevator,

rain on gray sidewalks,

and being 18 still in a place no one has ever loved but me.

Maybe today is, what today is,

marijuana and 5 page papers at the same time,

getting smarter,

and being free in a place no one has ever seen but me.

Maybe today is not what yesterday was,

but who cares.

And maybe tomorrow might not quite be,

today,

or what i picture tomorrow to be today,

but it will be.

and i will live with it.

maybe someday i will be old in an old city.



it was cold today and refreshing.

the volcano of hot frustration and anxiety freezes up in it,

leaving my heart to dance in the rain.

i love riding in the elevator.

i love the simple things.

skateboarding, letting go, loose grips, being drained.

cause when you grow this fast the good trips and the bad trips

become one in the same.