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   This is who I am.

i have been sad in ways
i cannot tell anyone, not
the marks on my arms or
best friends
or myself
-Aanika
from
eavesdropping

they are my bruises
owned by his hands.

even my ghosts aren't my own.
-why it dies

 In every outthrust

headland,

in every 

curving beach

in every grain of sand

there is the

story of the

 earth.

"I wanted to be one of those people who have streaks to maintain, who scorch the ground with their intensity. But for now, at least I knew such people, and they needed me, just like comets need tails."
— John Green (Looking for Alaska)

no kind of faith will rescue us

The poetry of the earth is never over