Remind me that the most fertile lands were built by the fires of volcanoes.

Right now there’s a man on the street outside my door with outstretched hands full of heartbeats no one can hear. He has cheeks like torn sheet music every tear-broken crescendo falling on deaf ears. At his side there’s a boy with eyes like an anthem no one stands up for.

You are not weak just because your heart feels so empty.

You panic button collector. You clock of beautiful ticks. You run out the door if you need to. You flock to the front row of your own class. You feather everything until you know you can always, always shake like a leaf on my family tree and know you belong here. You belong here and everything you feel is okay. Everything you feel is okay.

We all have different reasons for forgetting to breathe.

Our insanity is not that we see people who aren’t there. It’s that we ignore the ones who are.

You can have a cold war with yourself, even in the summertime