Claustrophobia

 Here are some Poetic Thoughts for you. I like to write and am open to criticism or whatever.

[Sometimes its like I've spent my entire life talking to a wall.]

We push our sincerity out the window and watch as it shatters against the sparkling streets below where the people are holograms and the air is hazy with hairspray and pesticides. I tried but I can't put this behind me when you and the sun are constantly reminding me of what it is to be beyond drywall and plaster.

I wish that I could live without this because our laughter always stains the carpet and I'm done buying Tupperware just so that I can hide my stash of memories in the refrigerator with the dairy products. I dream in black and white because real life should be that easy, but you walk by me like I'm wallpaper- just part of the scenery- and I can't help but decipher the look on your face as something more than what it really means.

The air smothers me as if to announce that you're gone and I cannot breathe with my unyielding lungs because the last cigarette that you inhaled is still smoldering in the corner. The smoke floats like the last of my hope which I have pawned off for more over-the-counter drugs and other peoples' bad dreams, both of which give me comfort while I succumb to the city's asthmatic breathing.

I guess I should have faked this conscience a long time ago because I am not so sure which parts of me are real anymore.You told me that I would make a better door than a window and I apologized and said, "What a shame we can't all be as transparent as you." Ever since then I have been asking myself when I will grow out of this phase of nonexistence.

[You swore that these four walls would keep all our secrets.]

And here is a completely irrelevant picture of me I took a while back when I was bored. [My hair isn't that color anymore]