To Winter

Winter winds,

shatter through the night.

White snow falls gently,

coating the ground.

We set up a fake tree,

ornaments are hung up.

Lights twinkling from the branches,

paired with Christmas tunes.

The first day of winter break,

We rent scary movies.

The paranoia sets in,

making me feel restless.

I imagine that the killer

is coming for me,

I am sure of it.

I think I can hear footsteps,

creaking slowly up the stairs.

I step out of my room,

the wind pounds against the door.

The Christmas lights glowing

from the branches of the tree.

The tunes no longer cheerful

they play ominously

adding to my fear.

The rest of winter I spend

bundled by the fire,

listening to the crackling.

An old book in hand,

the weathered yellow pages,

crinkles coarsely between my fingers.

The smell of the fire,

singes my nostrils.

The warmth overwhelming,

comforting from the cold.

The sweet taste of hot cocoa,

lingers on the tip of my tongue.

The Journey

Rain hitting against the windshield,

droplets looking like tiny specks of sperm

racing across the window aimlessly.

Travelling past the pastures and the fields,

the signs reflecting back on the slick wet road.

The heir of a dog driving with no destination,

over 90 miles an hour on an empty highway.

The cigarette dangles loosely from his lips.

Plumes of smoke drifting through his airways,

He flicks the rest of the butt outside.

He lights up another one,

after a few drags,

it breaks like a cheap condom.

“Shit!” He shouts in frustration,

“Worthless fucking fags”

He tosses it out on the street.

He takes out his bottle of brandy,

Taking a swig

he swishes it around his mouth,

letting it linger on his tongue.

The acrid taste of the acid,

helping him to forget

the mistakes he’s made.

The alcohol numbing his senses,

his thoughts scattered like the sparse stars.

He breaks down,

the tears blurring his vision.

He is left with bruises and scars,

he curses her, himself and his existence.

He lets it all go. 

Alone

Left with nowhere to go,

no place to call home.

I travel through the night,

in the streets of New York.

Familiar faces,

forgotten thoughts.

A digression,

from what I wanted to say.

The alcohol sets in,

bleary and broken.

An enigma,

I walk amongst shadows.

A failure,

I have no friends.

Only acquaintances,

and past love interests.

I want to run,

make an escape

from this city.

The twinkling lights,

surrounding my sanity.

I digress,

from another school.

In a different environment,
but a similar place. 

To Seasons

Sweltering summer heat,

you can taste the sunset’s colors:

Pink, purple, orange, red, blue,

swirling together.

Cotton candy clouds,

reminders of forgotten fairs.

Colorful sunsets lead to

the changing of the leaves.

Autumn sets in an array of colors:

Red, yellow, purple, brown.

You can hear them,

the leaves crinkling beneath your feet.

The sun sets faster,

Winter has arrived with winds.

At night everything is black,

in the morning it is bathed in white.

You can feel the colors.

The trees stand stripped, broken, and bare.

The bitter cold leads to warmth,

Spring has made an appearance.

A month’s worth of rain,

has led to flowers blooming.

You can smell them:

Yellow, pink, purple, orange, blue, red.

The Room

Four walls washed in white,

My first year of college

A dull dorm room.

Spacious compared to other rooms,

Filled with laughter and fun

A cool roommate.

The overhead light

Makes the room feel like a “prison”,

Her words not mine.

The windows don’t help,

They enhance the idea of imprisonment,

Both of our lamps diminish the idea.

Four walls washed in white,

The color of our personalities

Shape the room and make it better.

My wall has a few poems made by me,

A bunch of yellow sticky notes

Filled with random music lyrics

Written by my roommate.

Her wall has a few movie posters,

Family pictures adorn her side,

The room no longer feels like a prison,
It has become our second home.