Writing

New starust slicks the shingles

On the ancient roof of the shed

Where a couple of souls lie to clean

Their greying teenage bodies.

The streetlight turns off at

Half past ten,

I would let the world burn

If it meant I could see you one last time

I could let the skies collapse 

if I could press pause on time 

i remember the crowded er

the bright lights and hard blue chairs

at midnight on a thursday

i decided to leave forever (but did not succeed, nothing but a mere mark in my neck, a rope, and a bad cough)

Are we all mirrors?

Reflecting what others

do and say

but when we see mirrors

we see a filter?

A filter that adds

comments

popping up like pimples.

Are we all mirrors

Burned at the stake for all to see.

Boo! Scream the crowds, words full of glee.

Smiles lit up the kids faces as they stared at me,

While the witches cried out for a flicker of mercy.

So monarchies fell,

And tyrants too,

Whether democracy does,

Is not up to you.