So many people say lighting fires makes them calm or feel better even.
Because fire is destructive and in those moments we have created this mass of heat and ash that could take down our neighborhoods if we tipped over the pit... yet we have taken control of it. This monstrous snake that eats away at all in its path is under our thumbs. We decided how large it grows. We tell it when to stop. I think people love playing with fire so much because we cannot control our own fires in our lives. The things that eat away at us day after day are escaping from our grasp. They become the orange and red seas that flood our hearts and spill out onto our wrists.
Harmless campfires satisfy our thirst to overcome the hellish pits of our minds.
- Yacinia Agosto
I’m tired of thinking of you all the time,
It’s stupid that I can’t keep you off my mind.
I lay awake at night thinking of pretend kisses
And dreaming one day of being your Mrs.
It’s stupid I know,
But my thoughts are out of control.
I bet you don’t even think of me,
Not for a millisecond it seems to be.
Of course, I don’t know this for sure,
But if you did, I’d like to think you’d send and “Okay sure!”
You didn’t even reply to the last text I sent you,
I bet you didn’t even read my pathetic plea.
Now I waste my nights thinking of lost dreams
All because you made be believe we could be.
my dark waters stir
turning the moon's placid reflection
into a chaotic dance of broken light
echoes of churning
and raise your foreboding laughter
up and over the old well's lips
but you will not awaken me
to burn this nightmare into my core
rather I shall sleep into dawn
awaken to a silent Sun
you once held my heart below these waters
but unlike all those that followed
I survived you
you may impose fear in the heart
of a wayward toad
or other spineless woodland creatures
but I sleep well
immune to your frozen tears
It's a heart on world with my sleeve steadily exposed
A life line on a call line, dial 888 to be controlled
Puppets on a string to compose this household
The happier we'll be the more we're enclosed
Smaller spaces to lengthen the gap
Encircling our inner self control
Consuming what's left of the demons
Trying to get a refund on our soul
Love changes colors like a rhyme
Smooth and easy
Eyes like the darkness of time
Slow and steady
Yet we're still not ready for the fight
Insanity walks through the door
And just when the time is right
Our beliefs slowly melt into the floor
They're just words, I told her
Now, I'm not sure that's so
Not making things harder
I just wanted her to know
Pouring from my heart
Tied to my spirit, soul
Yes, it's just a quiet start
Maintaining small controls
Restraint, not my virtue
I act out my fantasies
All of what, I'm unable to subdue
Profuse with, rhyming analogies
as my feelings, coming through
a victim of my own, a wordy casualty
Nothing is stable
Because I'm use to instability
This ground is not fertile
So get use to infertility
I might be able
And not have the ability
Everyone one needs saving
But there isn't a savior
Through many of labors
We try to find loyalty
Which is funny because
We're all used to enemies
Nothing is labelled
Its all under the table
Nothing has flavor
But it still taste good to me
You want to love like you're dying
With no time to wait
And all hearts at stake
Die like you're living
Forget all the hearts you break
When I'm tired I seem to be the most calm
When I'm stressed I feel relaxed when I'm anxious I keep on waiting
For my paranoia to detach
I tend to want to get high
But I embrace the night
Like an introvert I'm in my mind like I wear its design and material things are measured in time and all the time I seem to whine
Just to be extra ordinary
Lord I'm wary
I wonder what's going to happen next weekend
We wake up and plan
to smile at strangers,
and hold the door open,
and say no to anger.
But then there's traffic,
and road rage and red lights,
and cut-offs and cuss-outs,
daydreaming of fights.
Our destination is reached,
and our hands are in fists,
we stomp down the halls,
and crash by accident.
Coffee spills, papers scatter,
faces red, eye contact made,
thoughts are racing, anger raising,
a small flame ignites great hate.
We watch the scene
play in our head,
like directing a movie
and take one is red.
It's yelling and screaming,
insulting and punching,
but solving nothing.
Aren't we lucky
we aren't bound by our thoughts?
We might be tempted,
but slaves we are not.
Aren't we lucky
if take one leads to
mistakes or trouble
we can choose a take two?