Darkened Guardians (work in progress)

Shadowed angels hover above me like dark
shimmering clouds affixed to my existence -
as his ends are fastened to my beginnings,
as my slumbering figure is clutched to his on sleepy

Sunday evenings. The angelic shadows press
down on the air around me, and their words are
whispered to me in slight delays of the clock's hand,
or whiffs of a familiar scent carried
to me in gentle gusts of wind.

Their silent tears fall, cleansing my vision,
and I can see their pure intentions, floating
across the glassy surfaces of my eyes,
tiny islands set deeply in the irises.

My prayers slip from my lips and -
in solid darkness on late nights,
when crystals form in the corners of my eyes -
are intercepted from above,
then buried in the tilled soil of a rose bed.

Summer Nights Till Fall

We lived for those moments on our concrete stoop,

Where our days became ashes in a filter and

Our nights fell in the middle of the street where we stood,

Palms out to allow our usually clenched fists to slacken.

How does my entire world manage to wrap itself around him?

I wasn’t looking when I found this infatuation, and

I didn’t expect to find his eyes right in front of mine

When I lifted my gaze…

We know the time when we escape in the evening,

Trip down familiar hills, then climb to the top again,

Rest on the curb in front of Radio Social at midnight,

Spend the night awake with my dearest.

The First Day Of Senior Year Is My Birthday

I've had this blog now since the 9th grade. I'm going to start my senior year in five days. At the beginning of every high school year, I get to look back on the things I've written that mean the most to me here, and that means so much. I know there's hardly anybody reading any of this. And I know that the few people who have probably don't even know me. I don't do this so people can read my shit. I do this so I have somewhere to go. Somewhere to put my work that has been overlooked by my professors, simply skimmed over and told it needs to be improved. This will be the last time I do this, looking at everything I've done before I start a new school year. This is the last school year. This is the last time I run a lap around this flaming track. The last time I have to give a shit about what I wear and who's going to see it. Twelve years, and the thirteenth is about to begin. And while I'm afraid, I think I might actually have a chance.