to do today
or leave till tomorrow -
a simple thought
that only requires
a sigh of tiredness
hoping that it could
only be done
on a day that's
a wish of regret,
coming on the last minute
of when something
could have been done
a mere idea
to be deepened over time
after quite a while
when i did it
having so many
questions, questions, and more
that will be
i think to myself,
i can do it today
[ but i can also do it
not today. ]
Will these words ever reach you?
Will you ever understand?
That it has always been about you
As if it’s been planned
All those silent pleas
All the prayers to the gods
All the words I’ve whispered
Through this life I’ve plod
The winds have carried my thoughts
The shadows, my longings
Every sunrise, my hopes
And every sunset, my dreamings
Moving at such a momentum that is necessary for the mere realization makes any attempt of catching yourself futile. You’re moving too fast with entirely too much force. Your fingers scrape at hard dirt sides, the glass that sand once was cuts once again. Branches turn into hot, fiery rope in the palms of your hands.
And begin to ascend….
happiness in my life exists transiently.
never have i been able to trust it completely.
on the occasions that things consistently go right,
my stomach drops and my mind keeps me awake at night.
i ponder why i must live in constant fear.
perhaps, it's due to the leaving of people i once held dear.
my hands clasp and try to hold you tight,
but my inner negativity makes this a constant fight.
i pray that one day happiness will be a friend to me.
that i won't fear its leaving and enjoy life peacefully.
"You are what you eat" they say it so often you would think they were just chewing with their mouths open. You happen to be so many other things than the diet you keep. I think "you are how much you sleep" would be an equally fair claim to your self identity. We regurgitate these talking points with such little consideration and worse we build our lives around these quotations because they are embossed over a scenic, awe-inspiring image on Instagram. These metaphors are so far removed from their original context that they could almost mean anything to anyone inside of their own head. Too often in juxtaposition to one another these contradictory ideas subside inside of you disguised as a rational point of view. Maybe you are what you eat or how much you sleep but do you ever wonder who's words become your thoughts?
We all have our secret hideaways, we all have our cures, and our bandage solutions, and we all have addictions.
You will eat to fill the hollow kindly provided by someone who's left you lying in bed at night, wondering why you weren't good enough, or maybe even just enough, to make them stay.
We all carry earbuds...more like soulbuds. Hello music, goodbye world, goodbye sorrow. We all break down, no matter how hard we hide it, no matter how well we can disguise it...eyes can't lie, but they sure can act.
And we all try to bandage our wounds, though we're the worst doctors. I puke smiles, you puke smiles, we ALL puke smiles...
but no one's meant them for a while.
I’ve seen the moon disappear behind the far horizon.
I’ve seen stones crumble on concrete.
I’ve seen my hands tremble beneath soft touch.
I’ve seen pouring rain of storms and the shadows burn
And my tears dripping to the carpet in waterfalls and droplets.
I am an unstable dust storm,
a volcano ready to explode
and the magma might burn
everything that I loved,
leaving nothing good behind.
I am an unstable dust storm,
I can’t conquer this town alone.
I need you to drown my emotions and lingering feelings
even if they end up in a huge pool of nothing
but black spots
Isn't there a better way?
O'er this snakeskin shedding,
Than this slow emotional death
Looking for cartharsis
Never to be?
Please, make me, me.
Release me from the birdcage,
And tell me where to dream.
Ah, I look for a tool of my own,
Somewhere buried in the dirt,
Because I am a plow without purpose,
A sword in peacetime.
Sheathed, but mostly lost.
Meaningless, but not wandering,
and so there is no journey,
And a slow morose breath.
Just one long, inhale
For no greater cosmic purpose,
Than the exhale, fleeting.
What a beauty, she said in my agonizing reverie.
Smiling, turning, leaning,
Oyasumi, Good morning.
And the sun's lights ne'er did beam.
The morning stayed dark.
I died, there
heart still beating.