I wrote this back in college

Last Night

tears fall to a
silent mirth
a breath of fire that
scalds your skin
a flock of crows
on your windowsill

drowning your scream

I browsed through my old notebooks and found some very old poetry written during my 2nd year in college. It was back at that time when I discovered the school paper and the English Literary section and  its eccentric, goth girl editor. I guess she's influenced me quite enough to write a lot of morbid stuff in my youth.

I keep trash on my desktop

Found this random thing lying around my desktop while cleaning my hard drive.


I wonder if some people feel the oddity of it all
Of being uncomfortably close, fidgety, distraught
It's only a matter of three paces at most
But it feels as if I can almost grasp it at arm's length

Strange.

It seems as if I could almost see it
My sense of sight and feeling twice as receptive
The ears half straining to hear the catch in the voice
My mind keeping the skin from being all over the place

Weird.

Somehow I don't know if this is all just me
I fear to turn around and see indifference
Or worse if those eyes will see straight past
Without a word or recognition

Nobody gives a damn.

So why should I?

Or should I?


Wow. How long has it been since I last wrote a poem?