In My World

it is raining again
but the AC is on
so it's cold and mellow
and I've yet to shower.


it reminds me,
of the nights I'd walk to her house
convincing myself that the cold
doesn't last forever.

I could see my breath
in her October air
and I could feel it,
I could feel it even then.

The rain always connected us,
because it reminded me of her.
I'd step through puddles
and feel like I was just some comic book
punker, thrifting off the streets,
wading through cities with nearly no lights
and conversing with cats til 2 A.M.

I pretend I have a sad, interesting life,
with no parents, no siblings, no friends-
just cats, they are my friends perhaps.

I pretend I have long hair that reaches
the middle of my back,
and that I always wear my cap backwards
and my converses give me new meaning.


I think of the other girl I could be.
Sadder, tragic, immeasurable.

There are no hospitals in that world.
There are ambulances rushing sick, dying people
straight to funeral homes
because they know there are no miracles.
There is no God there.

I worship cathedral spires and stain glass windows,
long abandoned, long forgotten.
There are spires and shadows with eyes everywhere.
I walk to her house, imagining the streets
will change just because I want them too.

One time, they even became old, familiar streets.
And I swore I blinked a few times,
but they felt the same.
That was the night I got lost.

But, racing toward a direction,
I finally gave in and got driven home.

This world is so soulless,
it has no eyes and no breath.
It is always cold and drizzling in mine.
The streets are always curious and dark.
There are people, but there are shadows too.
They walk in the masses.

And the buildings, they're just illusions.
They show you safety and warmth,
but they aren't real.
And if you touch the door knobs,
you'll only touch cold steel.

In that world, you have to really want
to know what that place is like,
to enter it at all, to be a part of it.

It is always October there.
But there are no screaming children.
There are sirens and puddles,
there is silence and loneliness
but you are never sad,
no, you are only glad,
and the cats,


they know everything,
but they merely MEOW

making you think
they know nothing


when in reality,
they know more than you'd
ever know in lifetimes.