They tell me I should smile more,
But I’m just lost in thought.
I like picking at my scabs and sores,
Each one an emblem of the battles I’ve fought.

Some people find solace in Summer
With its mirage that all is right.
But I thrive in the chilled Winter,
Relying on my inner warmth and light.

Go ahead…

Call me a dark cloud raining on your parade.
Call me a moping miser wallowing in pain.
Call me a bloated tick thirsty for attention.
Call me a filthy sinner unworthy of redemption.

Flimsy words deflected by my impervious mettle.
Don’t you know steel hardens in the furnace?
Leave me be, let the storm rage then settle.
Only then will I break the water’s surface.

Afterwards, I’ll mount a drifting log and ride along
Down sorrow’s stream until I reach the estuary.
Where purity meets the brine from tears’ song
And entrust my fate to the ocean currents to carry.

Humanity always seeking absolute bliss,
Condemning suffering to fathomless pits.
But under the covers of sleepless nights
Amid the sobs, wails, and blistering spite…

Out emerges a self-revelation,
A subtle truth whispered in the dark.
Cathartic release through meditation
Only bestowed by sorrow’s mark.

They tell me I should smile more,
But I’m just lost in thought.

It's the way we cut off our heads
in trying to lose it,
throwing it in the river,
but are so consumed with curiosity
with what we will become that
we find ourselves still stuck
at the rivers edge,
trying with all our might,
to watch where it goes.

I can't stand it anymore
That's a direct quote
Thirty years ago
I know people matter
But Jesus Christ
I know what I mean
Do you?

I decided the trip is no where
No? Where then?
No where other than where you been
Then where is there again
I think that's Hindu
Who am I to argue with reincarnation
I'd like to try again

The answer is publicity
Otherwise you're doing it for yourself
You have to be strong
Anonymity ***** the life out of an ego
That's why I killed mine
Now I'm a rock star
'Cause I said so

I can hear a chord
But it's really a word
That's how you make it matter
It's how you translate it
It's not an interpretation
That's only to keep confusion alive for others
They seem to need it anyway

You can't really hear it in your mind
Still I get goose bumps
That's because I know what to do with loneliness
I can't stand it anymore
That's why I imagine it instead

Still with stoic calm,       you keep the balance,
as moods move through you     like waves through water.

They're now as faint as     the edge of memory -
the words you spoke, the     seed of what was said.

I have a feeling     and it carries me,
through the veins, to the     heart of the matter.

Moments, like the words     we string together,
gathered so we have     somewhen we belong.