day one hundred fifty-seven: the color lonely.

why couldn't lonely
be a color instead of a feeling?
no easier to describe to someone
who is blind
but easier to understand
because it's there alive and holdable
if there were a lonely colored crayon
i would hold it in my hand
and feel the roundness and the smoothness
and the papery-ness of the wrappings
and i'd use it, abuse it,
maybe even break it
and sharpen it
and it wouldn't hurt me
but lonely...
lonely can't be held
constantly wisps of it trailing
just out of reach
so you can see lonely
and feel lonely
but it's impossible to catch
to hold, to touch, because to truly
understand lonely,
would be to accept that you are
and refuse to be lonely
anymore.

day one hundred thirty-six: afraid to go to sleep.

afraid

to sleep

to shut my eyes

afraid

i'll meet

my own lies

inside my head

there's no disguise

for what i'm feeling

here tonight

i'm

afraid

of loving

of losing

of dreaming

but at the same time

i'm so

compassionate

i've lost myself

somewhere in the dreams

so how does it make sense

to be afraid to love

but compassionate

to be afraid to lose

but to have lost myself

and to be afraid of dreaming

but to be living a dream?

it doesn't

and that's me

i'm afraid to go to sleep.

day one hundred thirty-three: there are tears.

there are tears

and they wont stop

because they carry

the biggest fears

from my brain

out my eyes

around my nose

down my cheeks

together at my chin

where they are released into the air

just to begin that water cycle

all over again

there are tears

and they wont stop

because they carry

the biggest fears

and the biggest fears

are the hardest

to overcome

day one hundred thirty-two: lonely soul.

constantly wondering

how many more days

i can simply make it

pretending that i'm okay alone

pretending that lonely

is my favorite state of mind

because it's not

theres an archaic ache

inside my soul

to be matched with someone

someone much like me

but much different, too

and there's this part

that wont shut up

no matter how long i suppress it

it returns with roaring glory

"you're alone..."

"there's no getting out..."

"there's no one there..."

and the lies it whispers

i nieve-ly believe

because lonely is the saddest state

the saddest state of mind.

day one hundred-nineteen: only the lonely.

isolation

insomnia

the lonely hearts

beat fastest;

insanity

is ianthine

(or so I'm told)

the lonely hearts

beat fastest;

ichongram

left in the sand

the lonely hearts

beat fastest;

footsteps fall

away from it all

the lonely hearts

beat fastest;

sleeping ictus

is the soul

the lonely hearts

beat fastest;

refusing to sleep

ideopraxist

the lonely hearts

beat fastest;

ifsoever ignivomous love

did my soul take over

illaqueate my pulse

my whole being

my heart would simply slow

because you see,

as i've mentioned

only the lonely hearts

beat fastest;

day ninety-three: people change.

some days

people change

and wake up

and they are not who

they were

when the laid down

the night before

some days

people change

and they aren't ever who

they were

when they laid down

the night before

some days

people change

and they never go back to who

they were

when they laid down

the night before

some days

people change

and they never tell those who

they were

that they wont be back to how

they were

when they laid down

the night before

what i'm saying is

some days

people change

and they forget to tell

each other.

day eighty-nine: i know this will be misunderstood, but it must be said.

nights like this

i miss you more

and more

and

more.

nights so cool

and chill

and more

and

more.

nights where coyotes

howl and scream

and more

and

more.

nights when the moon

just seems so near

and more

and

more.

nights like this

i simply miss

the sound of my name

and more

i miss the sound of yours

and more

rolling of a tongue

and more

and so i'll whisper it

and more

into nights like these.

fix my heart.

day eighty-two: alone.

i want to be alone

i want to be secluded

i want to be left alone

until i get there

then i get so alone

that i feel lonesome

it's quite sad

because i used to know what to do

when i was alone with me

now i'm just not sure

what to do

other than wish i had someone to talk to

sometimes i guess

it's just wanting something

that i can't have

and when i get it

i don't remember how much

i didn't love it like i thought i would

so, i want to be left alone

and i want to remember

how to be myself with me

and just be happy here

alone

again.