So down , down ,down he goes smooth and silent
down she goes lungs fresh and clean, no bottom in sight
just he and the night. The thinning light of day.
Down they go with ease. The challenge lies ahead
the music playing slow and sweet.
Minutes are like hours to the unknowing, undisciplined , unwilling.
Baptism lies in the slow pulsing of the heart and the knowing deep within that
pleasure and pain ebbs and dances as down, down, down where under the waves to deep blue nothingness and further still as far as will allows.
How long can you linger and keep your head as you strive to return to amniotic bliss, that
place that echoes with muted sound and muffled voices that held your focus.
not in this world but of it.
So down you go to crushing penance
to blue and cold to the limit and to what end.
to return is unwritten because the ultimate gamble
now the die is cast
to will the last ounce of life from lungs now flat.
To rise to life or remain in stasis
or so it seems
depleted logic dictates that you may well stay
below, beneath the waves
Now a free-diving cult film. Haunting and lovely. Man And his yearning To transcend
My last words should I die tomorrow how I wish.
I'm just tired of feeling so hurt and lonely. The pain is far too much to handle. Depression is something I've struggle with for many years now. My many reasons to live were my family, my friends, but most of all my love. Even with those amazing people in my life the depression always hid underneath. Coming out to Barre its ugly teeth when I was intoxicated or vulnerable. I hurt the women I love most in this world. I can't stand to live with that. I'm tired of the many tears. I'm tired of the heart ache. I'm tired of ruining the good things in my life. Please remember me for the goodness in me and not my evil deeds. Rest assured I'm at peace now. I was rarely at peace alive. I hope everyone's dreams of an afterlife were true. I'd love to see those pearly gates or if what I did sends me to hell so be it. Maybe we are apart of gelatinous cube, one of my favorite ideas. If it wasn't I wouldn't have married it. I will never be entirely sure why you left me Alyssa but I love you and I want you to move on with your life. I was a destructive character in yours and everyone else's life. As you know, you're far better off without me. I made some big changes trying to clean up my act but instead it all just came crashing down. I'm glad I died still married to you cause that is how I would choose to go. Having had a loving wife who cared for me deeply. I'm wrapped in your favorite blanket, my head resting on a pillow that still smells like you. In one of my favorite places. Its a frequent of ours when we were stupid kids and we'd sneak out together. Little did I know she was my future wife. I just knew that I adored you. I'm holding the book of poetry you wrote me. I'd like to be barried with it unless Alyssa wants it. She can have anything she wants. You always were a sucker for a poet and I hate that you fell for cheap words when I would of bled right infront of you. You'll find a man with far less flaws and he'll sweep you off your feet. He'll treat you well and wont taint the memories like I did. When you broke up with me the first time. I cried harder then I had ever cried over a girl. You've found another poet in your life. This time when he dies or breaks your heart I wont be there to take you back. You were always my dream girl. My sweet love. My love was my name for you because you embodied every wish I ever sent to the universe. I just had some issues that we couldn't fix. So just hate me and move on. I know this will only push you further into the arms of another man. You were already there when you left though. I also want everyone to know that I want Alyssa to have all my belongings. She knows me better then anyone and she can burn it if she wants. I want her to have my life insurance money also. Please buy yourself something nice. I'm in the same place, in the same car looking over the beautiful lake remembering my perfect moments. When I still made you happy. I remember getting you to fall for me. I will never forget that unique connection we shared. We had so much in common. Our playful nature. The books we loved. The music we adored. How I fell inlove with your brothers. How I had to convince you Jacob was the greatest guy in the world and pushing you to make amends with Gille. I always tried to push you to better yourself and situations. I was off mark sometimes but Gille's your best friend now. You've come to realize how Jacob is an endless friend, a companion til the end. You were blind to so many gifts you were givin from birth. If there was any gift I could have givin you. It was to make you realize what you have. So go find someone better then me, don't ever settle for less then perfect or I'll haunt your sex life. They built a statue of us and put it on a mountain top. I want you to know I was endlessly lusting over you. When you thought the passion died. It was because I forgot what to do. I just needed a little guidance.
Yesterday brought me Tomorrow;
Tomorrow lacking Nothing-
Nothing and everything...
hahaha I just realized off mark
To the scientist
the heart is an organ
necessary to carry on living
and when it breaks
the scientist fixes it
with medicine and stitches
and the scientist knows
that once the heart is fixed
you can just keep on living
the same as before
To the artist
the heart is a masterpiece
necessary to carry on loving
and when it breaks
the artist fixes it
with music and poems
but the artist knows
that even though the heart is fixed
you can never just keep on loving
the same as before
It's easy to write about warm people. It's simple to just let their love and compassion flow effortlessly out into the world. They stumble upon the perfect one, THE one, and fall in love even if they don't know it. And for a while they don't, because that's the beauty of it. They don't know, and then suddenly they do and they realize that they're complete and whole now, that they've found someone who fills the cracks in their soul.
It would not be so easy to write about someone who flat out refuses to admit that they are not already complete. Then he appeared. I couldn't see him, but I knew he was there. Oh, this is a game then, I thought. I'll see what I can figure out about you.
I heard it so loud and clear. Shivering, I whispered, nice to meet you, Isaac. I let images flash through my mind as though I was trying to settle on the one that fit the personality walking at my heels. He's blonde. Which is odd. My characters aren't usually blonde. But he's blonde in a way that he can hide. At first I thought he'd walk slowly, shuffling his feet as though he was so focused on what was inside his mind that outside of it his coordination was all off. But then I realized he was keeping up with me, and I am quite a brisk walker. Isaac is one of those people who builds walls. He doesn't know it, but he does it. Everyone else notices. They notice, but they don't care. The only time people run into his walls are when they try to complement him on his playing.
Oh, did I mention he's a musician? That's why he's built the walls. As of now, I'm pretty sure he's a violinist.
But anyway, when people compliment him, try to tell him how the ways he plays that violin opened a well of feelings within them that they didn't know existed, he stares blankly. They blink, thank him again, and hurry off, wondering if the reason his blue eyes were so confused was that they'd lost their ocean of feeling to the music.
I wanted him to be chubby, perched somewhere on the border of adorable baby fat and visibly out of shape. But his shadow behind me is tall and bony. Not athletic, not chiseled or lean, just wiry. All sinew and nerves. Like when he plays, he might rip.
Then I'm home. Mom calls down stairs and asks how my day was. It was fine. Boring.
I know I left Isaac outside, but he doesn't want to come in. So it's okay.
Today I walked into Barnes and Noble to buy my summer reading book which just so happens to be super thick and it's 1930s science fiction (kill me now!) Anyways, while we're there, out of curiosity, I asked if they had any John Green books (because everywhere else, they're either sold out or on hold) and they did. The lady brought me to a table. A few of my friends had recommended his works. Scanning the table of books, unsure of what to chose, a guy walks up to me. He looks about my age, maybe a year or so older. He's pretty cute, which is quite the pleasant surprise because usually guys don't talk to me. He says, pointing to The Fault in Our Stars, "I couldn't help but kind of overhear you talking, but I read this and it was amazing." He points at Looking for Alaska. "My girlfriend read this... said it was pretty good." So I say thanks and something awkward like 'I'll have to check it out,' and get The Fault in Our Stars. This small gesture has restored my hope in our generation. The guys in my school are mostly arrogant airheads with no taste in music, in my opinion, anyway. In addition to this experience with a stranger, today, while at a shopping center, I saw a girl wearing a 5 Seconds of Summer shirt, as I had mine on, too. I complimented her and she smiled and said, "Thanks, you too." This small gesture has also restored my hope in our generation. Today I learned that not everyone sucks and that makes me really happy. I guess that if you put yourself out there, ever so slightly, in the right places, you might learn things or make new friends. What if I'd talked to the girl about 5SOS? Or asked the guy about other books he's read? There are so many opportunities every single day to improve the quality of our lives and we pass them up, because they're things that are thought of as small, but can have huge impacts. I believe that if each and everyone of us tried, just a little bit, to talk to strangers, the world would be a better place. Not everyone wants to hurt you. I'm not saying to invite some random person into your house, but to talk to people with common interests, or compliment someone on their shirt. Little things like that, as they did to me, can make someone's day. I walk to my mom with a pile of books. She turns to me and says, "Since when did cute boys talk to you at bookstores?"
How could I possibly explain?
There are certain things that make me feel alive
Looking at the stars
A good movie
The right words
And watching the sea
The immensity of blue
the majesty of the waves
the immutability of nature
Being alive seems something ordinary, but it is not
We exist daily, but live?
I dare say, there's people who haven't lived at all
It's crying until your tears run dry
Laughing until you cry
Feeling your heart bursting to the limit
Looking at the sea and just understanding everything
Like the universe decided to curl up in your heart for a second
A second in which, the universe makes sense
You aren't a separate individual anymore
You are a part of the universe
And the universe is a part of you
With all its beauty and all its horror
You look, really look
I did. I understood.
In the middle of the sea, I understood the immensity of the universe
And my own insignificance
I laughed like a madwoman
I felt genuinely happy
I was a loaded gun
wept all day
listened to music, wide awake, all night
the family Problem
the sensations I was experiencing
just how long you fall
before you see the rocky bottom
I am from the strangers,
from questions and wonders.
I am form the un-seen, lurking in the corner,
secrets wanting to be found.
I am from the light bulbs,
the consuming of energy,
variety of flavors, the good and bad both locked in cells.
I am from the past and the present,
from the twinkling light and dreams of sugar plums dancing in my head.
I am from the truth,
the key of the universe, step by step instruction of you and me.
I am from the pillow fights and jumping beans unable to contain the joy,
transformed into flushed faces and thundering storm clouds hovering over heads,
the every so slightly music of broken glass.
I am from the I-hate-yous', there I-love-yous'
the faint flashes of faces, the sketches of new ones.
I am from the dreams, the reality checks, the laughter, the crying.
I am from YOU.
Molded and shaped, chipped and torn,
assembled a thousand times better.
I am from those memories, these moments,
the seconds we gain from living and the time we lose from dying.
I am from the particles in the air, the dust and the ashes.
Nothing is truly lost, looking beyond the looking glass.
Mistakes are not mistakes.
I am from me. Me, myself, and I.
There are a few types of music
Music when you're happy
Music when you're sad
Music that makes you think of someone
And music that doesn't mean anything to you
Until certain things happen In your life
And it just moves you, speaks to you.
Pushes you through the rough
Glides you through the smooth
Music that I listen to when I'm only thinking of you.
But I never tried poetry
And now I realize
Poetry can be used
To explain love in great detail
An image in a readers mind
But love can mean many things
To the writer.
So the reader has to relate to it in someway
Dig deep within the lines
It's like finding a diamond in the rubble
But when they do their eyes come alive.
See a poem has to flow
Tell a story in someway
Poems that only make sense to me
My mind is thinking of new
Lines every, single, day
See I never wrote poetry before I came here.
I see it as a land of peoples
Story's and Dreams
A land of people who
Get heat-broken and Shattered
And write about the things they've seen
People that write about the dark valleys in their mind
People who write poems about their lovers,
as you read their words come alive.
People who write about their struggles and addiction
A place where everything in their mind is in one place
and most of it is non-fiction.
But poetry for me
Are my Demons scrawled
Across these pages
And my story's to tell
This place is where I drown them
They lay there in that thing
The thing I used to call the Wishing Well.
If they're here, they're not in my mind
Emotion in my lines
But the reader has to Look, Imagine and Relate
But when they do, their minds come alive.
Now I know this
Poem may not be the best
And It's not meant to be
Because this poem might only make sense to me
Just another Demon
I have thousands and this is just one less.
But now I come here everyday
In the hope I can feel something and relate to somebody else in some sort of way
People who I don't know but I can read and read
Pages upon pages and for a moment my mind becomes less tense and I start to believe.
I didn't mention the Angels
Because they're quiet
They only come when I rest
I think a lot
But I know they're always silent
During the Test.
Busy summer highway,
the same music on the radio,
but on a different continent.
I am moving forward, but my thoughts
They are stuck in the same place
Because that’s where I find you.
I have forgotten many things
Like the day of our first kiss
Or your mother’s first name
But I haven’t forgotten the way
You made me feel so much bigger than
I had ever thought I could be.
Everywhere I go today,
Jeeps are the cars right in front of me
Reminding me of you
And it feels like I am not supposed to forget
And it makes me wonder
If it is possible to remember and forget at the same time
Or if that,
given enough time,
Will tear my loving heart apart
until I forget
Who I really am-
Me without You.