Space Junk

maybe I'm space junk

sad pictures of worthless objects

orbiting in a galaxy of stars

today my anger is a plastic water bottle

victim to science

and the endless vacuum of space

I didn't go to work today

because my science forgot to make the motivation chemical

there is electricity in my brain

I have neurons and I don't know what that means

my depression 

is a water bottle in space

what a journey it is

to be human

SurRouNd

when I was young
Colors had Faces
letters had genDers
And spoons
Never got along with the forks

now
Now my emotions
Have feelings too
And when my pen
spills out
numbers
they tell me their life stories

4
Is my favorite number
Because she knows what it is like
To be told who she is
And 9
Will always be my CAMpfire villain
My water bottle Is a she
And she
Does not much care for tulips or birds
My pillow
Is a diVa
Who never gets her way

Months are Never just Days
days
Are slightly more than just dates
And when I spell out their names
Their letters greet each other i n d i v i d u a l l y
Before becoming the word as a whole

So

sO
So

So who am I to say I am never Alone
When every pEtal on my bedspread
Never Fails
To welcome me home

Artist's Soul

I do Not own
my Artist soul
because that would mean
She does what i want

no One owns
my artist Soul
and not even she
can decide what to think

but we are Grateful
to Be together
for I Anchor
her wanderings 
a n d she
loose ns the Bond
that tethers us Both
to mereLY Existing

Time

Where I am there is no time,
No beginnings or endings,
Nor reason nor rhyme.

Everything is,
And everything isn't.
Tomorrow is in the past,
Yesterday the present.

I've been here awhile,
I've only just taken off my coat.
Oh! Is that the time?
I really must go!

The streetlamps are dark,
The shadows are white,
And though the the sun has just risen,
It's already well into the night.

I passed by a stop sign,
And walked backwards to see it go.
And when I came across a green light,
I stopped and watched it glow.

I ran alongside a turtle,
we laughed as we went,
And when I walked the aisle,
I took it at a sprint.

Backwards is forwards,
And up is falling down.
You read this poem top to bottom,
And in confusion you did frown.

So read it again!
And this time remember,
Left is just as right as wrong,
and roses only grow in December.