Everyone loves the comedian.
He can bring a smile to someone’s face that had been covered with a cloud of darkness for decades.
He feels the sadness emitting from another person, even from their heart, and can chase it away with a joke about an interrupting cow or a dog and sandpaper or with the punchline being the lyrics to a song that when said is played in the head of the listener and its beat revives their heart with an electric shock.
He can put in order the right words and can say them with such perfect deliverance that it can make a crowd keel over, laughing so hard they can barely breathe and applaud with the forcefulness equivalent to a stampede of wildebeests.
People like to laugh.
He can make them laugh.
But what if the comedian no longer walks with a spring in his step? What if that cloud of sadness that he chased away found its way and circled back towards him?
What if it just so happen to be that, when he walked off the stage, he pulled off a mask that no one knew was there in the first place because he hid it so well by distracting the attention from his face and onto to what happiness he could provide them with. That by mending other broken spirits, none of them would notice his, even more broken than theirs. And in the silence of my- his- own misery, he is left to rage war with himself that he can only feel on the inside of me- him- and gives no hint to it on the outside so as to remain the jester. My- his- heart and mind is a warzone fought between him and his fears. The insecurities that reach out their withered hands to paralyze me- him- from the heart down are fought only with the will to press on as normal. And while I tell that joke about the rabbi, the priest, and the atheist that walk into the bar I’m on the other side of it drinking myself into a protective pit trying to forget the other joke I told about the chicken who crossed the road as if trying to paint me- it- with some amount of courage to cross the road when deep down inside I know the truth that I am much less than a coward unable to cross a dead road for fear of getting run over by myself. My insecurities and fears that I warded off for so long have finally grabbed hold of my ankles, ripping the supports from underneath me so that I fall and crash to the ground, blood spilling everywhere, all the while keeping a calm composure and a smile taped to my face so no one will know it kills.
Yet still I press on.
Why?
Because everyone loves the comedian.
I can bring a smile to someone’s face that had been covered with a cloud of sadness, emitting from their heart, coming in to save the day and chase away that darkness and revive their heart with an electric shock that has the forcefulness equivalent to a stampede of wildebeests that will leave them breathless and with a smile on their face.
And so they press on.
And so I press on.
Jan 28, 2016
Jan 28, 2016 at 8:40 AM UTC
I am the child that spins and dances,
I leap and swing my arms.
I stare at the world in pure amazement
And am always in wonder of its beauty.
I am filled with innocence,
As my smile touches your heart,
As my hand holds yours,
Because I Am.
I am the lover that calls after you.
I wring my hands when they aren’t embracing you,
Because of my desire to be close to you
And for you to understand my love.
I am passionate for you
And I cry out when you can’t see
That nothing you do can change that
Because I Am.
I am the warrior that fights for you.
I fight for love and for justice.
I will war anything that comes against
Or in between me and my beloved.
I rush head-on into the battle,
Willing to give my life for yours.
I gave my life for yours
Because I Am.
Jun 16, 2015
Jun 16, 2015 at 9:55 PM UTC
I’m drowning beneath a wave
A wave no one can see and only I can feel.
I feel me sinking into its depths
Being crushed under its pressure.
There’s a noose around my neck
A noose no one can see and only I can feel.
I feel the support being ripped from underneath me
And a rope that chokes the life from me.
There’s a knife on my wrist
A knife no one can see and only I can feel
I feel its blade carving into my arm
As my lifeless blood spills into the sink.
This air is too thick, there’s a hole in my lungs
This silence is the most deafening thing you’ll hear
Am I making it obvious enough that I need help?
Or are you just that blind?
There’s a gun in my mouth
And it’s very much real
I don’t want to do this
But I can’t stop myself.
I’m screaming inside for You to save me
Words that can’t make it to my mouth.
Would You rush in and save me from myself
From something that is not myself.
Can you feel my spirit tug at Your heart
Begging You to read my thoughts
To know the darkest part of me
That no one can see and only I can feel
So You can slowly help me heal.
May 31, 2015
May 31, 2015 at 11:59 PM UTC
We tell them we’re fine
But it’s not like they’d listen anyway, right?
Save your words
They won’t be heard
And the silence is what you really prefer
We tell them we’re fine
They won’t know the difference
Our emotionless face won’t show it
Our broken hearts won’t bestow it
Why try to explain
When the only feeling we know is pain
We tell them we’re fine
Because we just want to be left alone
We don’t want them to listen
We can solve it ourselves
Take another hit, make another slit
It’ll be alright
We tell them we’re f*cked up
Because we don’t want to be alone
We want them to listen
We can’t solve it ourselves
Put the drugs away, put the razor down
It’ll be alright...
May 13, 2015
May 13, 2015 at 8:55 AM UTC
I’ve tattooed a line across
the veins of my wrist
and marked a down stroke
for every time
“you can’t wear red lipstick”
made me believe
I never wanted to in the first place.
for every time instead
I’ve stained my lips with cherries
learning how to tie the stems
so I can slip forget-me-knots
to the back of your throat—
do you feel my restriction now?
the razors that fly off my tongue
perk thorns on my skin,
another down stroke on my wrist
will teach me that
you were right,
shyness is a virtue.
no need to speak,
go spend one hundred dollars
and some percent for tax
to cover up,
even though I’m sure your mother told you
that cotton stains.
so make it black.
get your hair stuck
in the zipper of that sundress
and pray as you pull it out
that it will lose its pigmentation
in the process
mark a down stroke
for killing two flowers
for one bouquet.
hold it
close your eyes and throw it back,
I know we shouldn’t be wearing white anyway
but tradition can take a lot out of you
like what you really think—
don’t say **** in public.
instead drag your first impressions
all the way to the altar
and dress in your Sunday best
a flower on your lapel
clear on your lips
a stroke for the neat decline
of the son
I tattooed a line across
the veins of my wrist
and marked a down stroke
for every time
my image
was my fault.
May 11, 2015
May 11, 2015 at 7:54 AM UTC
Take me back,
Back to the days when we talked for hours.
When we stayed up late into the night.
Back to when we walked in silence
And completely understood each other.
Take me back,
When we sat in sunshine.
When we ran through thunderstorms.
Back to when we didn’t worry about what others thought
And dismissed them without a care.
Take me back,
Back to when we laid in fields,
And spoke sweet nothings in each other’s ears,
And it wasn’t til now we realized they were just that,
Sweet nothings.
Take me back,
Just take me back
To when I didn’t know I should’ve tried harder
To hang on to someone
I didn’t realized had meant so much.
Take me back,
Back to before you were here, but at the same time gone,
And it was all my fault
Because I walked on without you.
Because I was a mindless fool.
I’m sorry.
Please forgive me.
I didn’t know.
Take me back.
Mar 27, 2015
Mar 27, 2015 at 2:26 PM UTC
See the girl crying in the corner
A past filled with rejection and pain.
Not one soul was ever there for her
When her dreams washed down the drain.
See the boy sitting in the dust
Thinking of old unforgivable mistakes.
Yet though he tries, and try as he must,
All happiness he shows is fake.
See the business man sitting at his desk
The care of the world upon his shoulders.
Wakes every morning, works from dawn ‘til dusk
Though his work only makes him older.
See the soldier going off to war
A wife and child he left behind.
No one has felt fear like this before
Except for this man who walks by its side.
Pray for the girl who cries all alone
And the tears that stream down her face.
Pray that she might find true love
And follows the dreams she was meant to chase.
Pray for the boy who sits in shame
And things that remind him of the wrong he’s done.
Pray that his ghosts he will learn to tame
And that he will find true joy to be won.
Pray for the business man who struggles to make ends meet
And the prison cell he calls his job.
Pray he is touched with unfathomable peace
And that no one of it will they rob.
Pray for the soldier who runs to his death
And the family who will see him no more.
Pray he finds courage in his last breath
And that his family will have faith to endure.
Mar 13, 2015
Mar 13, 2015 at 9:51 AM UTC
Read my mind
For all the right words I can’t seem to find
To tell you how I feel inside.
Know my thoughts
For they seem to be caught
And to get them out I have fought.
Gaze into my eyes
And look past the disguise.
All the walls and all the lies.
Feel my pain
So you can know the strain
And the amount of life that it drains.
Touch the scars
That I put on my arms
And how I wished to hide behind the stars.
See my tears
That reveal my fears
Of losing everything I hold dear.
Look at my soul
Blackened like coal
And, like my heart, has a bleeding hole.
I’ve shown you me.
All there is to see,
And now you hold the key
To give me hope
And help me cope.
Give me the life for which I *****
Hold me close
And give me a dose
Of the love that I needed most.
Mar 8, 2015
Mar 8, 2015 at 5:01 PM UTC
Out of a window and into the world
A world that resembles your soul
Envision a scene where nothing is green
And a sky that is grey and dull
Out of a window and into the world
Your eyes gaze down below
To the brown of the garden, ground – cold and hardened
Where nothing out of it can grow
Out of a window and into the world
A world that resembles you soul
Damp and cold, dark grey it does hold
And the feeling of life is null
Out of a window and into the world
Where a single beauty is found
A bird painted red among all that is dead
Has left your heart to pound
Out of a window and into the world
Where the red beauty is satisfied
Despite the depression and life’s cold recession
It stays and does not hide
Out of a window and into the world
A world that resembles your soul
That darkness embraced and yet it was graced
By the simplest beauty of all.
Mar 1, 2015
Mar 1, 2015 at 12:58 AM UTC