oh honey, I'm already gone

This is a collection of my poetry. I've been writing since I was nine years old. Most of it is actually about me. All is mine, unless said otherwise. Please vote, and comment.

Ivy-jacketed, December oaks on road-borders shock their stark gestures at us now, through sun and sleet, that January will yawn at and February, propping eyelids, will desperately ignore, longing for blossom; and making do with the least of anything flowering.

His world; his views; his feelings; his words.

i know who i am. and i know who i do not want to be. i am easy in my own skin even while i struggle. i am anything but perfect, but that is okay. and i love the ocean. many of these have something to do with that. i also love people who live there. the rest of these have something to do with them. some have nothing to do with either.

we are all just misfit human beings infatuated with the idea of perfection.

Let me be vital. / I want to burn myself out. #39 Poetry - 11/6/16.