the little sparrow told the darling fawn,
“there’s something beautiful on the horizon”
the fawn passed on the news to me, right
after i had tripped over what seemed to be
some rotten shit luck, i didn’t believe it then
& if you asked me now what i believe i’d say,
“beauty is nothing short of what you make it to be.”
dark eyes, heavy feet, brittle bones, & swollen teeth;
my anthem these days is the flowers pleading the rain.

sincerely, me.

Je suis un photographe. La photographie est ma passion. J’aime faire des portraits. J’aime aussi les paysages, mais je préfère les portraits. Ce semestre, je suis trois classes: Français, Ballet, et photographie. Mon majeur est Photographie.

J’aime les animaux. J’ai un chien et deux chats. Je veux rester à la maison et jouer avec mes chats tous les jours, mais je dois faire ce que je dois faire. Et j’ai beaucoup à faire. Je me réveille et me brosse les dents. Je porte mes vêtements de travail, je mange le petit déjeuner, et je vais travailler. Je n’aime pas mon travail. Ensuite, je vais chez moi. Je joue sur mon ordinateur un peu et puis je vais à la maison de Peter. Mais le lundi et le mercredi j’ai cours de français. Après la classe, je vais à la maison de Peter, à Bloomfield Hills. Nous jouons de la musique, nous faisons le dîner, et nous allons dans les cafés. Ensuite, je vais à la maison ou je vais dormir à la maison de Pierre. Et c’est ma vie!

ugh. i have to go to work.
i did not move to michigan to live like this,
to hate my job, do poorly in school, & throw my brain to the dogs.

i fucking hate this.

you’re just like everything else,
trying to do what you can with what life’s given you,
sometimes stopping to

the breakup.
the move.
my own decisions.
my lack of knowing how to properly communicate.
my lack of knowing who the hell i am.
my freaking brain.
not knowing what to do about all of this.

i just want to be happy.
just like everyone else.

i do not at all like who i am,
& i want to change that about myself.

cuz God likes myself & even though
i have been bitter as lemons towards
God recently, he made me & so i
should like myself. or something.

bitter & misunderstanding.

(i’ve tossed my way through too many,
none being true suiters)

you know what, i can’t write anymore.
i need to see a therapist.
i cry everytime i think of something related to him,
(it would be for the better)
i can’t keep doing this. i don’t know what to do,
i’m lost i’m lost i’m lost i can’t give anymore of
myself away, i have nothing left, i don’t really
even have energy for anything anymore, i’m
pacing my way through life, i need something,
i can’t do this i can’t i can’t i can’t, i’m gone.

///////////////////////////////////////////

sometimes i just want to explode,
right in front of everyone, the public
my family every person i thought to
be my friend, anyone once a lover.
everyone. and show them my nasty
bitter rotten insides and all they contain.
i can’t even tell if i’m completely empty
or ready to burst at the fucking seams.

what am i doing?