Off

Something is off
I'm not sure what of
Maybe the end of school
An appointment maybe
A death even?
Loss is expected this time of year.
Graduation celebreates that.
This, a time of change.
My security is breaking yet again.
Yet another moment.
Some ponder that moment.
When to let it feel
When to bribe the second
Is there any time left?
Time in which to say love
And wishes
And thinking
And peaceful memories
But at the end of this day
Nothing will feel the same
Nothing will take away the ache
My heart will be on my shoulder
Only for tonight
When I wake
My eyes will have lost their shine.

I Am Adult

It's been nineteen years since I met the air
Almost twenty in ninety-six
I've glanced at the glass multiple times
All while hating the reflection
I've trusted people who I thought deserved to be my other half
All while knowing I was just screwing myself


It's been nineteen years since I met the air
But sometimes I'm treated like it's only been seven
Seven is a number where you can remember bits and pieces
When I try and defend myself all my words come out like crumbled cardboard
Solid yet wrinkled
Imagine if there were words written on that cardboard
If it's wrinkled you wouldn't be able to make out the words as easily


It's been nineteen years since I met the air
But it seems like it's been forty
The dreams I've really lived
The tears that have run to my toes
The blood that has threatened to pop out of my chest
This pain has been intense
But I've made it through the surgery


This is why I am adult
I've lived life
I've dreamt up ways to conjure up fire
I've breathed life into dead areas of my life
I've kept walking through my mistakes
And I've never been afraid to stare those mistakes in the face
Even if I won't completely be honestly about those turmoils with others that means nothing
It means I'm private and I'm used to being my own adult


This is why I am adult
I deal with my deck of dung
I deal with my little circle of sunshine
I still smile
And I still swear I'll be ok until the end


This is why I am adult
Because I'm still living the life of one.

Stinging Straight Through

Burning Turmoil
Can even a bug spot this?
The hidden meanings behind everything
Not a worded action can fix a puzzle
Burning light sings the truth of reality
Forever Goodbye's are threatened
As cold as silk
As warm as a lid
About to erupt
In unsermountable sweetness
Is goodbye ever really a goodbye?
Not in some sick presence of mind
Believing is seeing
Yet darkness is the personification of evil
Supposedly
Yet nothing ever charms the nature except for those things
Everyone's dark light can consume
Yet some of us tuck inside our souls
Tucks until the turmoil starts a fire within us
Our hate and anger and frustration place first on the burner
Our inner selves burst despite
Internally or externally
Everyone has something
Turmoil whilst burning

More Than You

I notice nothing more than you.
Your trembling hand like homework.
Your thoughts bleeding into my past.
Tiny wisps of faith singe your soul.
I believe the bombs tore your shell that night and kept.
When I see the reasons behind thinking, everything separates.
When nothing shines yet you.
Words cling to my lips as if unmanmade.
My pen can't specify any such glow.
But my soul knows.
Expression is a personal charm.
A pebble cannot nor would not pinch it's depth.
Snow would not drop it's stinging crystalite.
Yet, as marvelous as my writing heart scribbles my soul.
I notice nothing more than this.
More than you.

Never

Never.
A word that I never haven't used.
An adjective that should never be used to describe a verb.
A word that should never be used to describe something you must do.
There is a music group called, "Never Say Never."
The sings sounds like Justin Beiber.
Nevertheless, I still listen to them.
Never will I not use this word to describe aspects of my moral compass.
Never will I give my love of writing and music to the wind.
Never again will I deny the inner depths of who I am.
Never again will I never say never.

Thoughtful Words

Again my heart is full of words.

Writing is words beyond our mind.
Words dig into the depths of our soul.
People write about present, past, and future.
Memories that are buried down not dug up.
Buried deep into dust; struggling to come out.
Memories often lead to realizations. 
Realizations lead us to decisions that can change us.
Decisions can be good and bad.
They can be mind, soul, boggling; better for your life.
Writing lifts weight from off shoulders.
De-stresses, decompresses; gives us hope.
One word can halt everything.

Forevermore.

The Grocer's Constant Request

There was a grocer gazing at someone
Not sure of what type of person was by the peaches
He went up to a man with a pear
Asking around
Finally getting the gut
"What are you doing"
You see, this man was picking up a peach
And dropping it
Into children's hands
But this grocer wasn't sure what type of man was by the peaches
So he kept asking
And the man kept giving to children's hands
The grocer never stopped asking

Control Deprivation

Back there.

Back in a hole of a room.

I had control, all of it.

There was nothing I couldn’t do.

Now when I try to exert myself, I’m pushed back.

There isn’t much I can decide for myself.

Not much worth trying to get to go my way.

I’m just alone inside in the end.

Without control, at least some, I feel dead inside.

Luminous feelings only come out on paper.

I try to branch out, but I’m cut back by people.

It’s weird knowing I have so much externally than internally.

Internally I feel like a dehydrated cactus.

Dying without the water it holds inside.

Unprotected without my outer thorns.

Love also seems to be a problem.

I can’t quite grab it, but I can’t let go of what I have.

I’m the one who never betrays.

The one who just happens to carry mail.

And all others sorrows, joys, pains, decit, lie’s.

All my mistrust of myself stems from not a drop of control.

I have none, been given none.

At a hospital I know what I’d do.

I’d curl up, and not speak.

Zoning would be top priority, a nice form of control.

But here I am, still choosing the opposite life.

Stay praying for this control deprivation to stop.

Still on my knees begging God.

But he still won’t give it to me.

So home alone I’ll go.

Back to a home called my heart.