i reside in
what i don’t own
what isn’t home
what isn’t mine anymore. 

i reach for hands
i once found shelter in,
i slip on my feet and
scrape the bottom of this
circulating stream.

i once sought structure
in the scattered.

i’m carried off
to go somewhere
i do not know
that isn’t mine
that isn’t home.

planktonic // a.s.m 

will these
city lights still burn
my eyes after
i’m gone?
stars in their own right, 
of our will

drowning out night but guiding
something, somehow 

giving direction 
however misguided 
to those
finding comfort in false
constellations.

the view // a.s.m

i yearn for her now, 
amid car horns and
coffee-stained sidewalks.
under bare, lifeless sky, 
i long for her shade.
these streets are swarmed, but
there is no life until
 
the wind blows and i am 
reminded she is here, among the
hard highways of Houston; 
she is waiting for me
to find her.

life after lights // a.s.m

please don’t love me. 
nobody knows better 
than i, 
it will be a waste of time. 
i’d love your eyes more than
any eyes in my life, 
i’d lose myself in them 
for weeks at a time and
wake up hungover in
strange places.

well eyes // a.s.m

i never wanted
to need you, 
but i closed my eyes and
unclenched my heart 
and now, when you’re gone,
sometimes
i’m lost. 

you have become a refuge. 
you lead me 
with open palms and 
bare soles
to the patch of 
sun on the asphalt
while the earth crumbles
around me. you sit cross-legged
and teach me how to smile again 
when the muscles in my face
forget.
 
you kiss me, with lips
like warm blankets, and
i am secure
amidst the chaos. 

you engulf me like 
the sea, and
i am drowning in
your serenity.

i never thought drowning could be so peaceful // a.s.m

when i hide the world
underneath closed lids, 
i dream of you. 

the voices in my mind sing
nothing but your music, and
my heart is sore from constantly
reaching for you. 

every step i take is in hopes that
soon i will walk on
your soil. until then, 
my hands must learn to be 
content only
to write about you.

Yerevan // a.s.m