dreamer’s despair

My dreams don’t match reality.

rotting fields

dying yellow grassstrewn over shattered glass dreamsfields of gray despair this haiku was inspired by the field that i practice on with my team for soccer. the field is horrible. the grass is yellow. the ball bounces every two seconds. but then our club coach says that it is better to practice in worse conditions

what can i ever be?

i have never been as skillfulspeaking and talking and letting words whistle past my lips with the efficiency of an arrow hitting the bull’s eye,than with letting my fingers do the talking, ink painting the outside skin of my pinky, as i drag it across words staining pure white paper. my eyes can dart across

trying

the pain, the longing, the suffering,they hit me everyday,they want me to take it,to slide the needle into my skin,to search for that never-ending relief. You told me to get clean before we got back together. It took me three months. I was on and off, on and off. I loved the high, hated the