Those moments where you just feel alive.
Those moments where maybe there are better things to do than die.
Those moments that remind you to take a breath.
And breathe, and breathe, and breathe.
Jun 27, 2014
Jun 27, 2014 at 4:00 AM UTC
I fell to the floor of that hospital like the hand of God himself was the gravity on Earth. With each rolling tear, I shed a memory of the life I had with you. Card games to pass the time. Trips through the woods where you would teach me survival tips. You never taught me how to survive loss. When I heard you were gone, I knew moss lead to life, but it wouldn't show me where to go for death.
So, I ended up in a hospital. Where kids with their own problems were just as lost. And I met her. She would scream in her sleep for help but I was without a clue as to how I could help her. As I stared out the plexiglass window, with "help me" and "get me out" carvings becoming apparent with help by the street lights, I realized I had no clue how to help myself either.
The pills. Blue ones, white ones, small ones, big ones. They never helped. I was suckered into trying one after another, with a pinky promise of them helping to make me a happy kid again. The only change they made in me was making me come to an understanding that I'd rather writhe in pain that you're gone and never coming back than to live a life as an emotional vegetable. What fifteen year old kid wants to sit back and watch their friends enjoying the best years of their life while they're sat, struggling to find a laugh somewhere in the haziness of their own mind, only to come up with a subtle smirk hidden somewhere in a buried memory of the past.
It's been some years now. Five in three months. There's been a lot that you have missed in that time, but I know you're not far. When I think hard enough, I can see you ever so slightly in the background of all these memories. And I know it's you in my dreams. I can feel you, and you tell me everything is okay. That voice cracks through my rib cages and plays on the chords of my heart time after time. It's painful. To see you in such an intangible way. Not knowing how long I will have to hold your hand. To tell you I miss you. I love you. But I know you know, just as I know you are there.
Through this time I have learned more about you, and more about myself, than I ever could have imagined. You shine brighter in me with each passing day. Some days you shine so bright, there is a light that radiates from the core of my soul and it burns until it shines over everything. And like moths to a flame, I attract nothing but the beauty you carried inside of you all those years you gave to me. And the beauty is ever flowing and always growing. Like the first time a father sees his newborn daughter. Or the last time that daughter sees her father.
Jun 27, 2014
Jun 27, 2014 at 2:27 AM UTC
I'm so wrapped up with being
wrapped up with you
that I can't wrap my head around
being with someone new
Jun 16, 2014
Jun 16, 2014 at 10:39 AM UTC
We all trek on, flipping pennies for change,
Imprisoned in a world where we don't feel sane.
Scrounging for words at the back of our throats,
as the devil holds his hand mirror inscribed in vain.
The hymns will echo through the hall, a gruesome harmony,
of memories doused in fine sugar smiles,
where the smokers coughs cover the discrete inner war,
enemies bringing themselves to ongoing trials.
We'll cry on the train home with holes in our hearts,
purity crashes experience, flames enrage.
but need not forget, life is a beautiful gateway,
to an afterlife of contentment and minimum wage.
Jun 15, 2014
Jun 15, 2014 at 3:42 AM UTC
Would you come looking for me if I disappeared?
Would you wonder where I went if I was gone for years?
Sometimes I wish I got sick, to see if you'd be there.
And partially to say,
**** you, you never cared."
May 28, 2014
May 28, 2014 at 12:25 AM UTC
Maybe you're made from the same stardust
that I hold within,
I can feel you inside of me,
like I know where you've been.
Every tragedy that you hold
is a tough weight to bear;
I know because I have my own,
I have enough to share.
And everything that shines
is hidden in the dark.
We wait around like burnt match sticks,
waiting for a spark.
To be seen, that's the goal, right?
To be the light in someone's night?
Or the image when someone closes their eyes.
To be the first face seen when they arise.
May 26, 2014
May 26, 2014 at 12:19 AM UTC
You were my favorite story to tell,
and now I stay silent.
I would see every star in the sky when I thought of you,
now I can only focus on the dark side of the moon.
I know that isolation, when only one side shines.
You took the glimmer from my eyes.
Now they're the water in the ocean the moonlight won't hit.
Deeper than you can imagine, but you'll never see in.
Oh, to know what is hiding under the surface.
May 1, 2014
May 1, 2014 at 3:07 AM UTC
Not a single thing is permanent.
Everything in this life is temporary,
whether that means seconds or years,
once you have something, it will at some point be gone.
And I'm still stumbling through whether or not
this makes the darkest nights lighter,
or every single light I've ever lit...
go out.
Apr 25, 2014
Apr 25, 2014 at 4:51 AM UTC
Ashes, ashes, we all fall down,
the king has lost his golden crown,
the queen is dead with a bullet in her head,
and all the children have somehow drown.
Those sinister black crow hymns
play just outside the windowpane,
in all the years we've been painted black,
we watched this city go down in flames.
Cold lipped killers with a steady shot,
pulling the trigger with no second thought.
Creating a scene, across the movie screen,
undisclosed, undiscovered, never to be caught.
The lights go out and we're still falling,
to that same, sad hymn,
and the chorus is chirping all the way down,
to reunite royalty with it's sin.
Apr 23, 2014
Apr 23, 2014 at 2:50 AM UTC
It's the creak of the floorboards,
that keeps me awake.
The small sound of absence;
we feel when the sun sets,
the makeshift wind chimes
of the skeletons neatly arranged in the closet.
I'm just a stained lipped kid
in your oh, so colorful life.
Waiting for your winding clock arms
to finally reach me once again,
and hold me until my time is up.
And then here I am, standing on a constellation,
hoping that one of these stars
once died to make a part of you,
like I passed, to be a partial thought
when you wake in the middle of the night.
Light sweat glistening;
frost on your window.
My breath still caught underneath your bed sheets.
Mar 16, 2014
Mar 16, 2014 at 2:40 AM UTC