If I threw up confetti
and pushed together the scraps to make...

The words, they taste like cough syrup
so you take them with a grain of salt...

I wake up every morning
to see the contents of my maze...

Some nights,
I kiss the nightlight sweet dreams...

I put a seashell in my ear
and listened to the ocean seep into my brain...

To steal the words of the half-dead poets,
please don't let me go...

Sometimes, I kiss the stars good night,
but they never say they love me back...

It's nice to know you're always there
(until I don't feel you anymore...

You're feelin' sick, 'cause
your stomach is sprawled all over thin ice...

The movie theatre taste
is dangling from your lips...

We always said we'd write the ocean
her very own love songs...

This is my 945th poem,
and sadly, it'll be my worst...