you do not have to look 
at the moon 
to know she is full.

she is my sister, 
full 
more than full 
more than infinite 
more than 
the line between the rock and the sky

she is my sister 
so i do not need to look 
to know her feelings are 
unknown

she is the moon 
so i do not need to know 
the properties of her fullness

tonight 
tomorrow too 
she will feel 
and she will be full

as full as the sky and the rock
as unknown as the line between

I've spent my life dancing in between the lyrics

Like the bug avoiding humans on a summer day

I buried myself away

I tried to stay safe,

Stay calm.

Please everyone.

But you cannot please everyone without unsettling everyone as well,

You cannot stay neutral and have a favorite song.

You cannot try without failing.

You cannot sit cross-legged and let the world pass you by,

And still have dreams.

You must act.

You must fall. 

You must see another day,

And see another way,

Until your brittle bones decompose.

How beautiful!

The way it blooms

red juice dripping from

ripened fruit:

her eyes, black velvet

silver on her nails

a mouth that curls

when it says my name.

What desire! I inhale her mind

each time that I breathe

I get woozy off her words

when they're meant for me.

How tragic! for part of me knows

I will never touch her: she is the last snow,

melting slick and shimmery

and aching to go.

My brother is 4 years older than me 
And he's also 4 times better than me at most things. 

School, sports, music, art, 
Things I thought I was good at 
He would excel in. 

I was constantly compared to my "better" sibling. 
At some point, 
I became a background character 
In a blurry video. 

It felt awful to be pitted against my own flesh and blood 

But the only person who never made me feel bad 
Was my brother. 

I liked the fast, melodic songs on the viola.
He liked the jazzy ones on the bass.

I liked taking photos.
He liked drawing cartoons.

I played soccer really well.
He swam a really good butterfly and could throw a mean punch.

It turned out,
That he was compared to me too,
The "better" sibling.

But no matter how hard they tried to pit us against each other,
We knew we were stronger, happier, and practically invincible
As a team.

And now he's moving on,
Growing up.
Going to get an education.
(And acquire a crapload of debt on the way).

And I won't have anyone to fight with about the last ice cream bar
Or who ate all the Belgian waffles?
Or someone to match outfits with
Or someone who comes into my room before going out with his friends cuz he doesn't know if his fit is "tuff."
Or someone to watch Cowboy Bebop with
(Or some random other show our parents don't want us watching).

And who's gonna watch all my reels?
Who's gonna debate me on those random existential questions?
Who's gonna listen to Nujabes with me, or ATCQ, or Nas, or Kanye, or Frank Sinatra?

Where's the voice coming from the walls at 5 am
Screaming Teenage Dirtbag by Wheatus?

I'm gonna miss being doubled over in stupid laughter
Because we both keep piling onto the joke
And I can't breathe.

It's going to be really quiet when my brother leaves.
But then again,
that's life, that's life.

The snow is twirling down,

dancing down to earth one

after another; it's

April, and

it seems it should be flower petals

raining down rather

than the flakes of frozen rain;

I imagine Spring is

curled under a blanket of leaves, knees

tucked up to her chest and

shivering in her daisy dress while

waiting for the sun to peek through and

thaw the heart of Winter, whose 

stubborn fingers are refusing 

to loosen their grip;

I imagine her curled up in the nook of a tree, as

I imagine my characters curled in the palms

of my hands; I

will forever refuse to let

them go, and

I will allow them to stay until

I finally write them fairy wings so

they can fly away; but

even then, they

will always be flying in the path

of my veins, and

they will always dance in the snow.

The cardigan that my grandma wraps me in when I am cold; 

Dusty piles of cards from someone who loves me; 

Computer overheating with a two-thousand-million-word PDF scrapbook; 

Of all the little bits of stories that I pass off as my own; 

My sister's laugh; 

Peace of mind - a gift from a friend; 

Books someone loves more than me;

Light from a lamp my parents bought when I was little;

Life my mother gave me;

Jokes my father gave me;

All the hearts I've made swell;

All the hurt I've caused.

None of it belongs to me,

But it's all I've got.

In wrapping your arms around someone,

you're getting a hug, too.

In giving someone else advice,

you're telling yourself what you need to hear.

In writing someone a story or a poem,

the words will fill your heart as well as their's.

In pointing out to someone the twinkling stars,

your eyes, too, will be filled with them.

In all the love you pour into the hearts of others,

the holes in their hope will let drops drizzle

into your own.

Hope is the thing that boils my blood when I see injustice in the world

Hope is the thing that keeps me up at night scratching at the innards of my body 

Because it craves to be free

To spread like what you would call a plague upon this world 

But in reality what it actually is

Is a gift 

My hope is my life

My hope is the thing you can't take away 

And you might ask

Well if it's your life can't I just kill you 

No because my life is spread to others

And their life is spread to me 

You cannot take us all away 

Because you would have to exterminate everyone

And you can't do that 

You could never do that

To you hope is simple and one note

To me hope is everything 

It's what drives me to move every single day 

It's what makes me take one step after another 

To me hope is the hugs I get

Hope is the tears 

Hope is sometimes the only thing keeping me going 

It is anger 

It is sadness 

It is disgust at the world

Because if I am not hopeful for another day

Then I cannot be mad

I cannot be sad

I cannot be disgusted 

Because for hope to exist I have to know what's wrong 

Or else I can't hope for what is right