A College Haiku

wait, what do you mean
i can’t graduate until
i retake this class?


i can’t write a love poem
i don’t like lying
i can’t show my emotion
i don’t like crying
i can’t force you to open
i don’t like prying
i want time to be frozen
i don’t like dying

but i feel a little of what’s left of my life leaving with every second the clock loses.

each tick like the click of a glock being cocked, and the tocks are the shots piercing through my existence.

bullet holes in my psyche become scabs of enlightenment.

over time, becoming less stressed over time because i work overtime to make sure we’ll be fine when my time is over.

hardly sober.

hungover on things that are supposed to ease the pain, but only hurt you more when you awaken from the dream.

love is like liquor.

i’m not a drinker.

love is a cigarette.

you’re killing yourself.

i’m going to marry Mary.

she told me not to wait for my stars to align and then pushed me to the sky and helped me rearrange them.

love is like life.

living to die.

so i can’t write love poems
because i don’t like dying
and i don’t like lying
and it’d be a lie
if i tried
to say

i love you.


a relation where the ship doesn’t sink at the end,
nothing lasts forever and i hate to pretend
that this is an exception, whether lover or friend,
a relation comes before the ship sinks at the end.


i feel like
a rock
on the shore
for the hands
of something new
to skillfully skip me
across the ocean
of monotony.
with such power
that i will reach
the other side
without drowning
and then i will wait
until life comes back
and moves me