We blindly type out of memorization,
We blindly write from practiced habit,
We blindly skip paragraphs, ignore articles, and pensively print upon the line without realization of what we’re saying at all.
We never truly see,
We deteriorate out of muscle memory
Absently offering an embrace neglecting to fully eyes-closed experience the wonderfulenss of it at all.
We go through the motions,
Dwelling in our minds straining its relation to our souls,
We no longer act in love,
But the muscle memory of it.
We look, but don’t truthfully see,
We touch, but forget to truly feel,
We hear, but we no longer listen,
We have flesh, yet we are merely programmed.
Advanced, but empty,
Knowledge unimaginable, yet still lacking,
Right, left, up, down, but do we realize the palpability and tenderness of the action?
Or are we too much on automatic?
In over drive,
That we forget to live out the littlest things and realize them to the fullest

You were a liar when you were little you’re a liar now
You’re lazy
You’re selfish
You’re a disappointment
You’re not worth furthering a friendship
You’re overly sensitive
You’re depressed
You’re insecure
You’re  anorexic
You’re not making any progress you are degressing  
This is the anthem rerunning in my head
Yet I harbor too much anxiety to end it
Too much fear to run away
And as I cry you stare straight through my face
Leaving me hunched over and neglected.

Life seeps through my frozen rendered winter heart,
Eyes blooming to the previously empty color,
Ice caps melt precipitating long-overdue art,
In spring I awaken, and joy I rediscover

Gardenias stretch their petals to the sky
Delight drifts through the air
Despondency and heartache wave goodbye,
Welcoming spring with all its whimsical wear

Spring means fresh, and chances anew
Affable spring, it is well with you

To love is to know,
And to know is to love ,
A bond sacred by intimacy,
Not birthed by erratic physicality.
No touch, no kiss, no hand I could hold,
Could warm the emptiness of my heart, so cold.
Two hearts torn
a broken hello from opposite sides of the world,
Our love simply lost, not permanently lorn.
Not by your kiss, not by your hold,
Will new love emerge from the fettered old.
I miss the warmth of your words
Their tantalizing embrace
Bonding immeasurable next to mere attraction of face.

I search for myself within you
Offering fear founded issues
Love must be embraced before shared
Through self-hatred I’ve evinced
Selfish care

Humanity is at the ****** of connection
Connection is plastered to our bones
It’s on our wrists dinging reminding us to take our steps that will apparently make us one with nature, it’s latched to our arms so while we are so spent attaching ourselves to nature that we don’t have to attach our phones to our hands, it’s our sun rise, it’s our evening prayer, heck it’s the only thing reminding us to wake up in the morning and connect with these people that we can only reach through these dull technological connections. Facebook says we’re here to help you connect! The Bible app dings remindign you, “keep in check!” You’re surrounded by connection, it immerses you and embraces you with its WiFi streamed arms and blue tinted light
But shouldn’t you be embracing the connection? Shouldn’t you be the one to swallow connection? Shouldn’t you be the one to amplify connection?
Humanity is at the ****** of connection but we are disconnected.. Shouldn’t the rate of depression fall not rise with every purchase of an iPhone. We are disconnected
From ourselves from nature from the spiritual realm and from each other because we connect our souls to these arguable objects of connection. Seems like we need an intervention from connection.  Shouldn’t connection flow within our bones and not simply be plastered to it? Connection is around us, but we’re not making the connection

I find myself in a series of rises and falls
Extreme to extreme,
my lows found cradled in an isolated ball
"Its lonely at the bottom", I scream from the top
riding down the euphoric tangent
Where I hit the bottom and stop
Tear stricken smile
a laugh shifts to a manic cry
inspired 4 days
inspired 1 day
discouraged more days
"maybe one day"
MAYBE ONE DAY
hope has arisen
the well fosters water
and with it, charismatic visions
CRASH BURN
I am my mother's daughter
"Oh to be on a good day," I reminisce from the bottom