WHEN THE MIND CRUMBLES I can't believe what I'm staring at. Who is this old man in the nightgown, Seated in a wheelchair with a lost stare? Facing the windows inside this building, Yet has no clue where he is, Or who I am. It's hard watching him struggle, His mind falling apart, Like a chocolate chip cookie, Soaked in vinegar. His ability to not be able to recall our last anniversary, Or even say "I love you", Without drifting away in thought. Deep down, he is trying hard to remember. Back to the good old days, Back when we both were full of #life. And I myself, Trying hard not to struggle too, Knowing the truth of this disease. It breaks my heart to see him this way, Trapped in a void of silence. Our questions, Remaining speechless, confused. And both of us, Not having any clue, To where it all began.

When asked a question, don't just shout out an answer; instead, think of all the possibilities you have to give to the world. Find one that works, and go at it.

The One Act Play I lay facing a comfort zone, Once filled with teddy bears and blankets, Suddenly consumed by a black hole. I stare into the darkness that can only be, A twister in front of my not so sturdy home, The procrastinator before a big exam who never studied, An ink stain on a clean white carpet. It seeps into my veins, And leaves me paralyzed like the dead bug on a windshield. Frozen, But not dead. Awake, But motionless. I attempt to form myself into a siren, But my mouth is filled with cotton balls. Next to me stands the demon himself, Red paint drips from where a head should be but isn't. My body melts, Wax forms in my arms. One last chance to carve a misshapen door to my sandcastle legs, And be accepted by the angry waves, Capable of seeing the faults in anything I create. I place it on, Too late, I have failed again, They smash it over me forcing me to breathe in what dust is left. I choke coughing two words, "Help me". But I'm not dead yet, They allow me one more chance. This time they will save my #life, And have me as their prisoner tomorrow night. I breathe in air, And awake from this trance. It is morning, The birds are cheering, My room stands untouched, It's as though nothing ever happened. I stand up, Blink twice, And come to realize, It was all part of a one act play.

The Captain In Purple I recently started carrying it, No more than eight days after the accident. It occurred so fast, And now the time is on my back. The bell rings and I head to class, Carrying our lives with me. Much like a kangaroo carries its young, Tucked deep down in a pouch left unopened. At least till a light is seen in this damp cave. This neon purple bag I wear, Lugged around like the shell of a turtle, And I the legs. It shines like a lightbulb, As you shine on in the starry sky. No longer are you with me, Merely you are the weight found inside this pack. A reminder, A captain who keeps me on track. (In memory of Breanna Tile - 2/11/14)