Popcorn

slipping out of eyesight

through windows

and out back doors

in the dark of night

with only the stars as witnesses.

slipping through thick forests

carrying sweet-smelling woven baskets

Who am I

Who should I be

Who do I want to be

Who should I want to be

All these questions laying about

Rambling inside my mind

Who

Who 

Who

I can't live life

When I was four I wished for five, 

When I’d be in Kindergarten

When I was five I wished that preschool would come back again

Again at six I wished to age

At seven I wished the same

hoping she understands

that poem was a little hasty

i don't even know if she knows

how she feels

about me

hoping she understands

why i blush every time her name is mentioned

my feet carried me through
the crowded streets of
new york city, where everyone is
constantly jostling to be noticed, for space,
for a chance in the bright white spotlight of fame.
but in new york city, everything is

If purple is the hardest color
For the eye to see
Then maybe all us purple-lovers
Are seers to the fairylands
Where dawn spirits sing
And poet bells ring
Harbingers of the night
To our awaiting ears.