After you reach for something, after you fall, after you pick yourself up, you will look around with new eyes. New decisions are reached, new morals set, old ones eradicated. It's times like these that it's quite easy to turn into an entirely new person. There are certainly new opportunities for me to expand into, it's just a matter of whether or not I take them.

Escape	I was pondering finally doing something that I had thought about for along time. I knew that if I did it, I ran the risk of falling under extreme scrutiny from a lot of people at my school. Up to this time, I had been weighing the pros and cons, and it might have been this point where I really decided what I was going to do.
The Shades of Her Face	Recently, I've been taking pictures of my friends, and then drawing portraits of them. I was doing one of these of the Winter Break in that friend's sketch book, and on the following page, I put this poem.
Catalyst	It's an incredible feeling when you search for something for a long time, fight for it, strive for it, hurt yourself for it, but then finally get it. It's indescribable.
Such As This	After spending hours with Sara at her house I came home, in a strange sort of stupor. I stumbled downstairs, sat down and wrote this.
Corruption	This poem is on a completely different track. A poem of rage and helplessness doesn't seem to fit amidst the poems about skin, beauty and light. Reading this poem aloud, I love how harsh it is.
Extremes	This was a poem I wrote in response to a question that Sara put forth to me.
Voyeur	I discovered that I had limits where I had previously believed (and hoped) that I didn't. I was at a party, and things turned . . . different than they had been planned, so I left, this poem forming in my head as I walked out the door.
Glide	Sara finally came over to see where I lived, and after she left, I wrote this one, in a sort of blissful mood.
Lack of Trust	After being repeatedly forced to deal with someone I have difficulty conversing with, I wrote this.
Belittlement	One of the things I cannot stand is wasted potential. When something could have become so much more if just a little bit more effort had been spent on it. It's funny how original plans for things can change over time.
Pinnacle	This was a poem I wrote to Sara after she asked why I seemed to laugh for no reason when I was around her.
Who He Was	My favorite teacher died of a heart attack when he was going to school one morning. He was not only my teacher, but my close friend. I had never had such a close experience with death before this. This was my reaction.
Wondrous	When you keep yourself from taking something for granted, you look at it in a much more appreciative way, no matter how small the thing.
Harassment	It's been a long time since I actually hated someone, but it finally came to pass again. Readng Black Razor right before this one makes an interesting combination of poems about the desire for hate being fulfilled.
Glimpse	I don't generally think about the future a whole lot: what I'll be like or what I'll be doing. For some reason, when I was going home one day, a picture of my future sort of presented itself to me.
The Fall	Have you ever deceived yourself into believing that an experience you had yet to partake in was something it truly was not? Once you reach the experience, it can be devastating.
Divided	Written several days after The Fall, this mulls over the feelings and the changes that came as a result of The Fall.
Job Search	College is rapidly approaching for me, and I am entering into college as an Undeclared Major. Deciding what you want to do for the rest of your life is a daunting task. This poem, acted out wildly, won a local poetry slam for me.
The Joys of Being Single	Any of my friends who read this poem all ask if Sara and I are running into relationship problems. Well, we're not. This is just a cynical look back at how addicted the world is to finding "that special someone."