if it helps to know

I’ll do my best

not to let you get to me

but you will

and I’ll think of nice things

and doing them for

and with you

bottles of wine

too late at night


I'm shit at darts

unplugging the string lights

the old guitarist

the piano

leaving through the side door, shouldn't have left

Constant disbelief

I’ll remember feeling lucky

every goddamn second

the luckiest

I must've been

And I’ll remember, painfully


of expression

of loss

of belief

and what I got from it

Hope is fickle

I’m not hopeful

grateful though

I don't think I could be more grateful

I didn't know time could pass so peacefully



emptiness and something else


generally apt

a fair description

my emotions grey


shifting slowly

from almost one

to almost another



a ripple here

a ripple there

things still hurt

but the colors are brighter

more full


not hollow

I'm reeling

but still

I maintain a place

where it all just looks nice

pastel blue and orange

to cover the dark red

it's hard to draw a line

to say what hurts

nice things hurt

colorful and alive

they bring a warm pain

Thoughts of you


not alone

they sting in harmony

with immense pleasure

fond memories

written in stone into my psyche

shouting at me, remember the good

“you gained something from this loss”

each moment

reiterating pleasantry



like when the music cuts out in a movie

and the camera zooms in on one character's face

just as they are having some important thought

we hear it narrated

that kind of stop

for no reason

maybe as a result of tiredness

exhaustion which I didn't earn

sometimes it all must stop

I suppose

unconsciously maybe I just can’t keep up

with emotion



there’s just a little kid up in my head after all

most of the time he's unprepared



overtly saturated
yearning for nothing
a moment of bliss, seconds of smiles
something to distract
for an iota more

and trembling
in anticipation of nothing
of a deep lacking

moments pass filled to the brim with boredom
eyes darting to find something
something novel
pleasure or pain
more, or less, than zero

At night, the opposite
looking for nothing
but unable to find it

chattering trains of thought
in constant competition
for attention
with the hopes of action
while I tell them to keep it down

I am after all
trying to sleep
My thoughts are mine
and sometimes not

I'm sure my emotions are mine
breaking like waves against a seawall
erosion of personality

The natural forces
wildfires burning through memory
taking everything pleasant
leaving only char

Ruinous char
good fertilizer
forests take years to recover
I don’t have years



there are moments when I can’t maintain eye contact

straining through knee-deep thoughts of you

and what appears to have been

A lack of labels was my fault

of this, I feel relatively confident

I never expected myself to thrive in your company

I never thought I could

Never dreamt of

Believing you enjoyed me

And you did, or do, I don't know

You showed me compassion

And I let it in

And, as I do, I gorged myself on it

eager for every morsel of enjoyment

of passion, of peace, of suffering free moments

Soon it will be summer

But I doubt it'll be enough



Spencer Healy

Spencer Healy


I go to university, I’m a struggling optimist. some of these are proper narrative pieces and some are more poetry, others lean towards stream of consciousness.