Writing

It was funny once

near the beginning

but I asked you guys to stop

and did you?

Heck, no

you didn't

not at all

I told you and all of your stupid friends to stop

over

and over

and over

We stand on the dock,

The sun has set,

But I can see your happiness 

Even in the dead of night.

The streetlight's on,

The metal is all rusted

And covered in salt,

I think I have forgotten

What it means to be human

I failed to swim in this air,

Drowning in oxygen that slowly rusts my lungs

If I continue to take my medicine

Will I lose the scars?

Have you ever felt the weight of an unspoken word?

Because I sure have.

The word “Why” can mean a lot of things…

But for me, it means Why do I feel this way?

The stack is too tall

But the mound

Of boards

Of plush

Of change

Can’t touch

The ground 

Without withering

That… aroma!

It envelopes the summer breeze with the purity of ripe, succulent pineapple. But… not just pineapple chunks? Pineapple sorbet, with a tinge of six-minute-old waffle cone.