0, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21, 34, 55, 89.

my friends. three words.

easy, lucky, free.

playful, rebellious, immature.

cagey, quiet, loving.

aware, analytic, liberated.

clever, puzzling, untamed.

tease, sunny, shimmering.

insecure, homely, high-handed.

searching, sheltered, moonshine.

feeling, uncontrolling, nimble.

logical, folky, lime green.

summer, motherly, garrulous.

tangerine, bright, compassionate.

blissful, classy, affectionate.

what early release did to me

getting off two hours earlier than every other year of high school has truly changed everything.

school is still a bit of a task, but not as much of a burden.

i have time to go get things done after school.

and i can drive around.

hang out with my friends.

but in that way days have blended.

school days aren't school days.

they are just regular days with school attached.

weekends are days without.

but all feel the same.

winter break normally feels like winter break.

this time it just feels like days.

maybe it's not common to feel that way.

but i do.

orange fields

did growing up make me wiser or dreamless? am i being rational or scared? do i want to live a life of adventure and radiance. with internal rhyme in a poem sublime. or proper sentences with punctuation.

but as long as i'm comparing life to writing, i'm going to say things. what i love peoples writing is honesty.

and genuineness. when what people say is completely crazy and over dramatized.

they are way to passionate about something or when it's completely true.

i guess what i want in my life is honesty. i want whatever i do, no matter how stupid it is,

to be truly me.

to be exactly what i care about.

and not to do things because i think they are right.

i want things to happen because i decided it was right.

not because i want people to see something in me.

i want to fall into the blue and not into perception.

fixing this.

sometimes i feel like i'm hopeless.

i am.

i'm willing, i'm hopeless.

i'm transparent.

whitman allowed me to write in free verse.

but it's not free.

while these words confine me.

i've got to maneuver these letters.

to shape what i mean.

while there's no shape of the mouth.

that can convey,

things will,

always be,

a little better,

than okay.

i'm simply waiting.

for things to be simple.

for the ending of times,

and days of the week.

for the easiness for freedom.

for the unbounded world.

for the ease.

of simplicity.

research; don't you weep.

a sparrow for a safe journey a sparrow for a safe return

for traveling great distances

the Egyptians associated sparrows with the stars and believed that they caught the souls of those who have passed.

pirates got sparrow tattoos when they travel over 100,000 miles or over the equator and back

the blue bird of happiness

cheerfulness, happiness, prosperity, hearth and home, good health, new births, the renewal of springtime

bluebird said to me, Get up, my grandchild.It is dawn," it said to me.

according to legend, each leaflet represents something: the first is for faith, the second is for hope, the third is for love, and the fourth is for luck.

"day's eye" refers to the way the flower opens and closes with the sun. The daisy is knows as a symbol of childhood innocence and is said to originate from a Dryad who presided over forests, meadows, and pastures.

Roman mythological legend tells us that the nymph Belides, as she danced with the other nymphs at the edge of the forest, caught the eye of Vertumnus, the god of the orchards. To escape his unwanted attention, she transformed herself into the flower bellis, which is the daisy's botanical name.

its simplicity has made the daisy a favorite of many poets. spring does not arrive until one can set a foot on twelve daisies.

to dream of daisies in springtime or summer is a lucky omen.

daisies bring are of simplicity, innocence, purity, and gentleness.

would you tell it to my face, or have i been erased, are you happy now?

cause i'm happy now.

i

WisH

mY

words

were

ALIVE

lastly, a to-do list.

find the significance of a sparrow, a grass hopper, and a white rabbit.

read kevin's book.

tell kaci baggott how much i love her, through the blogosphere.

have a dream that doesnt have to do with burning to death.

and figure out why i keep burning to death.

learn how to play the guitar my mom got me.

and start being a better vegetarian. (sorry turkeys of america).

and apply to city school of new york.

start taking more pictures.

stop eating like a mindless animal.

it's funny to write maskless.

miss gun.

night.

sociology in relation to ant hills. (e major)

my classmates.

teacup pigs.

and charmed life.

oh, darling, please believe me. i'll never do you no harm.

sneaking and incense.

waking and warming.

listening and talking.

not talking at all.

sleeping and dreaming.

but there's nothing left to dream.

because when i wake up.

i'm where i want to be.

and for once,

the dreams were inferior to the reality.

oh how i wish that we lived in seperate languages.

edgar allen poe thought of his mind as a house to diagnose himself. i'm no poe,

but i'd like to think of my mind as a room.

a single window, with the light pouring in.

pouring in. philosophers discuss there.

they argue over how to live a life.

they confuse each other. and think each other wrong.

maybe the window is stained with an image.

yes, it is. the light hits flowers that grow beneath the floors.

there are characters from book's i've read.

they tell their stories, and fill my room with excitement.

with tales of joy and sorrow,

and things i wouldnt understand without them.

and vains that climb the walls, purple walls. vibrant yellow floral.

fireflies as night lights, and smokey air.

there are photo albums of things i've lived through.

things that made me myself. a few photos have lost their color,

others have completely eroded away.

they were washed away by the ticking of a hand place high on the wall,

and devoured by the creatures in the soil, the people in the dirt.

sunflowers. peaches. teacup piglets.

there are some things that don't belong to me,

some rockets came through walls.

some bombs through the ceiling, they left footsteps in my dust.

some implanted weeds in the novelty and freshness of my playground.

but i've seen them through. i've been stained a tad.

the furniture is floral and colored.

i've got a table in the middle.

i'm having coffee with the rabbits, with the clovers and with the sea.

we're discussing all things, and all the possibilities.

could you look me in the eye, then tell me that you're happy now?

i'm not trying to show maturity.

looking now i’m perplexed at how you got to me.

how you left me with wet raw eyes and bite marks deep in my knees.

each night as i slipped into sleep.

looking back now it’s impossible to ignore,

all the lines you fed, a script to allure.

near the head of my bed, in the bottom of a drawer.

i’ve got pages of paper, stained with your gore.

left me with a conclusion, sorry but there's nothing left to beg for.

stand up straight, do your trick. turn on the stars, jupiter.

dust today is a chore. its a shameful smudge on our shiny egos. it's a sign of unkempt houses and careless housekeeping. my mother seems to agree. she tells me to dust the ashes of my incense, to chip off the wax that’s harden while dripping to the floor in beautiful outlines of their traveling paths that have frozen in time

i laugh as i refuse. i answer, asking what happened to dust being magic. to dust being the reminisce of saints, beggar’s velvet and the powder that allows butterflies to take flight. telling her if I dust now, i’m erasing the cremates of joan of arc, and the rubbing together to earth’s elements. i'm fighting my melted wax, my verification of living. of the passing of a a night. evidence of a romance. i wont clean, i’m erasing history and enchantment. i say i want to be where dust was the sugar left of time. where a candle not pouring itself into the world is a soul captured by its container. where my dust is stardust and it’s the sprinkles of an hourglass. where the only way to prove you truly exist is to show you had a light that once burned untamed. where my dust is speckled and glittering on the wings of moths and believed to scattered by fairies. where my dust is a meteor and a monkeys paw.

where dusting is a man in a ski mask. thieving time.

so she ends up doing it herself.

you're inside something beautiful.

Inspiration could be a firework today it’s a dud. Sometimes its vivacious today it’s dull. Sometimes it’s a sunny day in the park on a swirling metal swing, today I’ve fallen off. It’s a parachute failure in a war movie. A stunt double in your favorite dream.

fall for the promise, of a life with a purpose.

i'll always be alright but i wont be better.

i wonder if you realize, i've been waiting till I see it in your eyes.

so it's 12:51 and i'm awake. a couple months ago, this would have never happened. i used to be sensible about sleep, i used to be logical about time. i went to bed around 11, i liked the sleep. i wasn't ever drained, i never felt like i was going to fall asleep and class or that i was dying when i woke up for school. i was healthy, it was healthy. but the world was different then, it was rhythmic routine carried out each day, everyday. it was grey and colorless. it was a world i couldn’t feel. a world i wore a hard shell from. numb splatter. a place where the only opinion to escape was an opinion unthinkable. somehow my defense became routine.

then you happened.

it's funny that i called for math help and ended up connecting with you. i think we both called for reasons beyond school, but it was never said. soon it was routine, we didn’t have to call just to say “uhh did you do number 5? so how was your day.” every night for a long time. four months. i wish i was fully conscious for those days, so i could have given you my all. but i was foggy, you know this. i’m happy you waited. i don’t know why you did. but i’m sorry and thank you. thank you for christmas eve. and i just want to say, i’m so happy for what this has snowballed into.

so i’m losing sleep. sure, i miss waking up without feeling like there are anchors holding my eyelids down, and i miss the ease of each night. but honestly, these feelings aren’t comparable to the feelings you’ve given me. the emotions that were lifeless to me a couple months ago, now engulf each night. you’ve given me back all the things i thought were irreplaceable, and you’ve given me more. i’m seeing the colors i was blind to, unhearing the musical burden that used to follow me like a sad parade. i’m listening to the beating in my chest. i’m in love with falling asleep to your voice, i’m in love with the words you say.

and for the first time in a while, you’ve gone to sleep before i’ve gotten the chance to spill every word i can think of to you. and i stupidly have no idea what to do. i don’t remember how to fall asleep not talking. i don’t like falling asleep without using my phone as a pillow. i’m not sure how to lose track of time or be serene enough to doze. i’m happy though. i’m so happy to be sleep deprived its unimaginable. i'm living unroutinely, freely, spontaneously, unplanned. i'm ready for adventure with you. it was you all along, i just didnt see it clearly until now.

you're the greatest. you are, you are, you are.

i want everything you want.

i want it now too.

i want the things you say.

but i cant figure out how to.

sorry for being so cliche.

but im scared of what i'll lose.

you say we're too young, but maybe you're too old to remember and I try to pretend but I just feel it when we're together.

if you don't believe me, you never really knew us
you never really knew

you could write my words. you could.

i'm complex.

but this is simplicity.

enchanted string this is the fabric

the song you sing and the notes are magic.

things are understood.

for whatever we are.

not quite there. but it's soon to be.

you will. you? will. you? will. you? will.

"you're a boomerang you'll see

you will return to me

if you don't, then this book is all lies

if you don't, then my plans would all be ruined

if you don't, I'll start drinking like the way I drank before

oh, and I, I just won't have a future anymore. "

who's to say

when we lived in california i remember my mom told me a story. she was swimming with the blue waves when she was overcome by the sea. she drove deep down under the ocean. she looked up, down left and right and could only see blue. however she knew which way she'd come from and swam to the sky. and she swam as far as she could unable to breach the surface. she gave up. letting herself drown, quickly falling deeper and deeper into the sea. she closed her eyes for the last time and almost fell into the dark when suddenly, her head popped up into salty air. she looked down, realizing the blue wasn't the sky at all, but the bottomless sea.

maybe i've lost the sky too.

i'm not a hippie but...

"the real world"

we say it implying it is the world in which adults live in.

the world someone had to teach us.

the one that no other creature knew about.

the one we've all been taught to put faith in.

the world of business and law.

of restrictions and "for your own good".

the world of nations and boundaries.

of age limits and tax codes.

i don't know how that could be considered real.

considering all of those are abstract ideas human minds fabricated.

no other natural being comply to this order.

they all follow the laws and the nature of a much realer world.

which sometimes i feel like the only one that understands.

so are government documents realer than the air outside?

do you feel the need to put factory made substances to wash away the nature on you hands before you eat?

does your own unpolished body repulse you more then the synthetic chemicals you can't pronounce on the back of your shampoo bottle?

i want to burn candles not electricity.

i'd rather paint than do obey an artificial reality.

i want to feel safer sleeping on the grass than in my bed.

i will be deprived of money before i am deprived of sunlight.

i will believe in the innate laws of music and land.

before the lines they drew on a map and before doctrines they wrote.

i won't pledge a nation but

i'll entangle in the world.

i'll trust earth before the concept of a government.

and i won't commit to a religion without believing in the stardust and galaxies.

i want to trash all the things they've taught me.

i want the real world to be the world i can see, not the world they want me to believe.

i hope i don't end up like everyone else.