Over the last few days
I have gone from sick,
to sick and weak,
to sick, weak, in pain, and tired
to fine;
I'm healthy as I've ever been,
and rested.
I seem to
have this connection
to the weather.
Just before
it's going to rain,
by which I suppose
I mean a few days at most
(?),
I feel anxious,
and sick,
and weak,
and in pain.
I'm still not sure,
and might never really be sure,
if
it's the meditation and breathing exercises,
or the rain and general passing of the storm
that make me feel better.
Did I have cold?
Could it have been the stomach flu?
Why did the Tylenol stave off the symptoms
long after they were supposed to,
but just before it started to pour?
Aug 20, 2014
Aug 20, 2014 at 7:42 AM UTC
Much like this poem,
everything
that has ever existed,
or will exist
including you,
your heart,
your life,
and your dreams,
always have,
and will forever be
composed of
" "
and
sunlight.
Aug 19, 2014
Aug 19, 2014 at 7:31 AM UTC
She has glasses.
She's short.
She's shy.
So it's not her looks
by themselves.
She wants to get to know me.
She works with me.
She gave me candy.
She is human.
Nothing out of the ordinary there.
Something in her eyes.
I think they're blue.
Something in her name.
All but one letter was in a dream.
I don't want to say it.
What else could it be?
What makes her stick in my thoughts?
What if I'm just overreacting?
What if I'm not ready?
Good sweet mercy she's cute.
Aug 18, 2014
Aug 18, 2014 at 5:33 AM UTC
Having lived here
all my life
I just realized
the brightest part
is always in the distance.
Maybe that's why
I never
thought that I
could hold onto
anything I have ever loved.
Aug 16, 2014
Aug 16, 2014 at 3:44 AM UTC
The idea
that there is a time
for violence, or guns; that there ever is a need
to slaughter peaceful, innocent bystanders
in the name of an officer who willfully, and wrongfully
ended a young man's life for no other reason than he can is
u n e q u i v o c a l l y
f u c k e d .
Aug 14, 2014
Aug 14, 2014 at 7:05 AM UTC
It's out there,
not here.
It's waiting
until the end
apparently.
It's illusive,
so we hunt.
It's elusive,
yet we need
proof.
It's God,
but also death.
It's love
(whatever that is)
undisputed.
It's subject
to the change
of wind.
It's hard, factual
evidence.
It'll be
the end of
me. Maybe
it's just the
beginning.
Aug 13, 2014
Aug 13, 2014 at 4:06 AM UTC
I've got a funny story of my own actually;
I rose from the dead,
and then after that
I ripped people apart.
Okay maybe it’s not that funny but
you can sit there and listen to it anyway.
Listen to the story.
It’s weird at first because
all there is, is just darkness.
It’s so
dark;
it doesn’t make any difference
if your eyes are open or closed.
What you think
is that you’ve been
buried alive.
Not ideal.
That’s proper... panic, you know.
You hit out at the lid of the coffin
even though there’s no way.
But then...
it starts to give.
You have to push your way through
all the soil.
It takes ages doesn’t it?
It takes so long.
But all of a sudden
something’s different;
you feel the wind on the
tips of your fingers.
And the rain.
Because before that
you’re not really sure where you are.
But now
you know.
And you’re pushing through.
And then all this stuff at once.
The moon.
And this incredible storm blowing
and the church bell
ringing midnight
and just standing there,
nobody else around
and all of it
pushing into me.
That feeling.
It’s what being born must be like.
Except you’ve got
context.
Because honestly, dead...
Everything up to then was fear.
Everything,
even when I was alive,
different levels of fear.
But then
it’s gone.
And you’re like that:
‘Yeah, come on.
Give it to me!
Fill.
Me.
Up!’
But I tell you what,
this
hunger.
This appetite.
I could not wait to get started.
Aug 12, 2014
Aug 12, 2014 at 4:28 AM UTC
The sky is so dark.
It has been nothing but bright
after being so ******* dark,
for so long.
The dark is so heavy.
It has been nothing but light
after being so ******* heavy,
for so very long.
I feel alone.
Lately I've been surrounded by love
after feeling so ******* alone,
for so very ******* long.
I miss you.
I've been so busy
that I didn't really get a chance,
for what feels like forever, but I guess it's been 6 months.
I hope you're doing okay.
Sometimes it really ***** out loud
that I can't stop loving anyone
I've ever once felt love for, but I wouldn't trade it for anything.
I love you.
I hope you do too; love yourself that is.
I hope that the job is what you want, if only for now.
Sweet dreams.
Aug 10, 2014
Aug 10, 2014 at 6:19 AM UTC
Doctor discussing with detective.
Patient mumbling to themselves.
"Yes, I am an actor."
Cut to rewind, of producers watching take in post.
Rewind actually fast forward in post, watching alternate lines of same scene.
Cut to alternate scene as if it was reality.
Doctor discussing with detective.
Patient mumbling to themselves.
"Yes, I am a model."
"CUT! That's a wrap!"
Aug 5, 2014
Aug 5, 2014 at 4:28 AM UTC
I don't know her name,
but I plan on learning it.
She has glasses,
and looks at me
in that way.
****** or not,
I feel a pull,
or is it a push?
Either way,
I feel a loss of words,
and the potential for coffee.
Before I get ahead of myself,
and start crossing that thin line
between
fantasy and reality
I'll make a cute friend first.
Aug 2, 2014
Aug 2, 2014 at 3:45 AM UTC