some days, i’m a ghost

i drift through crowds and pass through people

and no one sees me

and no one hears me

and i’m surrounded by talking and laughter

but i’m not there

i’m nowhere

there’s nowhere left to be

there’s nothing left of me

and everyone keeps talking

and nothing makes any sense

and who even am i

and why can’t i be who i used to be

i miss her

there’s so much noise

please i want to be alone

please i don’t want to be lonely

there’s so much energy

and it aches, to know i once had it too

i wonder what went wrong

i wonder if anything did

there’s so much. too much

i don’t have that much left in me

and everyone keeps talking and laughing and being

and i just keep slipping away

i've waited so long

(for you, or for me)

i've tried to go slow

(and it's so hard, when the sight of you makes my heart rush)

i've been oh so good

at keeping control

(i don't want to scare you away)

but i only feel alive when i'm with you

(it feels like the stars.

it's exhilarating. it's terrifying)

and i think you feel this way too

(flashes. the way you look at me, sometimes.

your eyes your eyes your eyes your eyes)

but you turn away. you always do

(and i almost wish i could regret it.

i can't, but i almost wish i could. because)

falling from heaven hurt less

than falling for you

have you ever wondered why humans feel such fascination for the night sky? it's hard to determine what the night is to us: whether we fear it viscerally or adore it vehemently. one moment we're writing odes to it, the next we're too afraid to go out in the dark.

perhaps it's the immensity of it. the night sky is infinite, and we're nothing.

perhaps it's the thrill of it. the darkness is dangerous, and we're cowards.

perhaps it's the beauty of it. the astral bodies are magnificent, and we're dull.

or perhaps it's simply because we don't understand. we know nothing of the night save for the tales we've endowed it with. we name the stars and planets because we name that which we wish to understand, and yet we're stranded on this earth, looking up, up, up, and they're so far away.

why do i feel such longing for the stars? is it because i belong there?

Come with me

We'll walk beneath

The branches of

Our childhood dream

Come along

We'll walk among

The meadows of

Our broken song

Come inside

We'll walk beside

The rivers of

Our fractured pride

Come, my friend

And we'll pretend

You could walk with me

Till the end

Always avoid potholes! They’ll wreck your tires: each pothole you hit wears away at them until they’re beyond repair and you’re left stranded in the middle of the road that cuts through the woods. You get out of your car and look around. There’s no one in sight. You sigh and lean down, examining the faulty tire. It’s a cold night, the air is completely still. The wind rustles the leaves of the trees nearest you. The air is completely still. You fish your phone from your back pocket and call your roadside assistance provider. While your phone rings, you glance around at the trees. Do you see it? It certainly sees you. A nice lady answers the phone and a tow truck is sent your way. You hang up and slide back behind the wheel as it watches from the backseat. You meet its eyes in the rearview mirror. It smiles.

When driving in thick fog, use low-beam headlights! If you use high-beams, the light just gets reflected back to you, minimizing your visibility. You squint at the road ahead and feel your car hit something. You hear a scream. Panicking, you get out, scanning the fog around you for the person you hit. It wasn’t a person. You think you see a body on the ground, just at the edge of your vision. You run towards it. It isn’t there. You go back to your car to get your phone. Your car isn’t there. There’s nothing but fog.