I take it slow.
I prefer to ride the current.
Drifting along as it ebbs and flows.

Only with you though of course.

Because the rest of my life is more like a tornado.
And I just do my best to to make sense of a mess.
But it was in that storm that I really began to grow.

My lack of confidence in myself is a weight I feel I'll always carry.
Its not like I don't have courage, but its like watered down whiskey.
It still has the burn, but it takes a minute to hit me.
They say if you work hard enough you can do anything you want to.
But every time that I try something new.
It always has the same outcome, ashes and smoke.
Like my attempts at creating something to be remembered by, are nothing but a ******* joke.
So excuse me if I'm not as confident as I try to appear.
Sometimes I guess I just get lost in my own fear.
That I'll end up like my father with no job and no life.
To be left with nothing, but two kids and a ******* ex-wife.
I once thought love was the reason why I wanted to write.
Now I realize I do it just so I can sleep better at night.
Because pixels and pens gave me a confidence I've never had before.
I might not be ready to make that jump yet, but I'm getting closer that's for sure.

Is there not something beautiful in the idea of being alone.
I don't mean being lonely because believe me I know.
That's a feeling worse, than broken bones.
No  but there is something about being alone.
Going 80 down a back-road in the middle of the night.
Window cracked, and music full blast.
And you don't really have to worry about tomorrow.
Yeah I would say there can be something beautiful about being alone.

To say I'm stressed would be an understatement.
But then again who isn't.
Every person cradles their problems in their hands and their scars on their backs.
Often unaware that the person next to them caring a similar load.
That is not to say anyone's problems mean less than another's.
Just that everyone has them.
And sometimes people need help to carry them.
I have many goals in life, places to see, land to save, pieces to write, and people to Love.
But I will do my best to always be there to help someone carry a load.
Not because I think I'm a saint.
But because I've felt weight that I couldn't bare alone.

Everything dies.
But in order to die you must be alive.
So as long as air still fills your lungs, be free.
Don't dwell on the rainy days.
Because it can't rain forever.
And if you feel like you're is trapped in a never-ending rainstorm.
Don't be afraid to ask for help.

I stand at the edge between fire and life.
I'm forced to watch as the fire consumes what little is left.
I'm forced to sit and watch as others add to this fire.
While those same people expect me to put it out.
Thankfully I'm not alone.
But even with all our buckets we barely keep it at bay.
Maybe more people will help when their homes are blown away.
For now though I settle with these few and do our best to keep the fire away.

A year ago today it was me and her.
That girl who inadvertently started all of this.
I remember walking down her street talking about Oreo's I think.
I remember I was happy I think.
I remember a few weeks later when she tore my heart from my chest.

I remember a few months later when I finally got over her.
I remember it in a fit of yelling and rage.
I remember being able to see clearly.
I remember I was I happy I think.
I remember rekindling an old flame a few weeks later.

I remember sitting in a field by a pond.
I remember dancing in a kitchen.
I remember saying "I love you"
I remember I was happy I think.
I remember a month or two later when I had to leave her behind.

I remember starting fresh.
I remember hot coffee and long nights.
But I also remember teaching myself to sleep.
I remember the first chapter of my first book.
I remember I was happy I think.
I remember the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen.

I guess today is the day for remembering the year, and looking forward to the next.
I look back and I see pain, and tears, and some minor alcohol abuse.
But I also see joy, and new friends, and the fresh air I so desperately needed.
I ****** up a lot in 2014 and if I had the option to go back and change it.
I would decline.
Because right now I'm happy... At least I think.

That's all I've ran on today.
But I feel refreshed, and alive.
Last night I was blessed, I was surrounded by people who burned with passion.
I wrote until my mind ached and my eyes refused to look at the screen.
And I fell asleep with a sore back and blood on my hands.
And yet despite my mind and body drained I feel so awake.
Maybe it was just seeing the smile I managed to put on her face.

I never used to feel comfortable in my own skin.
If I wasn't hating the way I looked in the mirror, then I was feeling ashamed of the way I could never manage to speak my mind.

But now when I see my reflection I've learned to smile at what I see.
And when someones trying to shove their hate down my throat, I've learned to spit my own right back in their face.

Blame it on the girl, or blame it on the *****.
It doesn't really matter to me.
I'm just happy that I can finally fill my own shoes.

I can bring worlds to life with a pen or keyboard.
I can tell stories that can make people laugh or bring tears to their eyes.
I can stare into the eyes of death and smile.
I know this because I've done all these things.

But why is it that whenever I try to make you notice me.
And I look into those icy blue eyes.
My tongue gets tied in knots.

When the people of this earth are all gone.
The floating rock will still spin on.
Trees will grow where we once laid our streets.
And all the problems I once had.
All the things we thought were good or bad.
Will be just a faint mark on the floating rock.
A single spark lost like all the others in the dark.
And while I believe my soul will be more.
This much I know for sure.
And that's that if I want to be remembered on this floating rock.
Then I should spend my life making it a better rock.
Because while we each only have a little spark.
It just takes one kind spark to light up the dark.

I'll put life off till tomorrow.
When so I can have a better shot at whatever I tried to do today.
Maybe I won't trip over my own feet.
Maybe I'll manage to speak to the next person I meet.

But not everything can be pushed to tomorrow.
But those are the things that'll I start working at late.
And by the time I'm finished it might be tomorrow.

But for right now tomorrow can wait.

Sometimes it takes running shirtless through the rain.
To remind you what living in the moment means.

From time to time I walk to the rivers edge to think.
Of everywhere I've been.
And all the places I'm going.
Or at least all the places I want to go.
And I stand there and think of how I got there.
How much I've had to grow.
This Summer, this Year, and all the other Years I've been alive.
And I don't really mean growing older.
Even though I guess I have, to a point at least.
I just mean how much I've actually grown.
How I've grown apart from people I once loved only to grow towards people I've just met.
How I've grown into knowing who I am.
How I've grown into my passions.
And as I stand there watching the current go by.
I can't help but wonder how much more I'll grow before I finally say goodbye.

Beautiful interstate.
Hallways to a home I'll soon inherit.
They keep telling me that the only downside to the life I've chosen.
Is constant motion.
Maybe an older wiser me will complain.
But for now I'll keep getting ready.
Because if these roads are my hallways.
Then I can't wait to see the rest of this home.

I woke up high two days in a row.
My leather still has the faint smell of *** smoke.
Stuck back in this town surrounded by hills dotted with snow.
And I know for sure I'll never miss this place.
I said it everyday this week
As I try to slap myself awake.

I wanted to text her, but I couldn't think of the words to say.
And I could always blame it on the beer or the smoke.
But in reality I know it wouldn't have mattered either way.

But she'll still give me that sarcastic smile when our eyes lock.
And I'll say something to make her laugh.
With my tongue refusing to release the words I feel she wants me to say.
Because my mind is too busy getting lost in those Icy blue eyes.

You're the kind of person that makes me want to lay around listening to Hendrix and Clapton while we talk about who we want to be.

You make it hard for me to write you poetry.

I  feel like the only way I could tell you what I mean is through the strings of a guitar or on the ivory keys.

Because words aren't enough to make sense of what I see.

I act bold to hide how afraid I am.
I act smart to hide how little I know.
I don't want to act anymore.
I don't think I fooled the people who mattered anyway.

I've discovered what this town was missing for me.
Family who loves me.
Not simply because we were born of same blood.
But because they choose me to love.
And I think I may have finally found that.
Which will make it all the harder when my tail-lights brighten the dust on this town for the last time.
Because I know without a doubt in my mind.
When I'm really gone... Then I'm gone for good.
But maybe; just maybe I've found my reason to make a visit home.

This could have been so easy on me.
No need for second guessing or checking myself.
No need to impress what does want to be impressed.
But you gave me maybe.
And I guess that gave me hope.
Because you could have gave me no.

I quit smoking because I thought it was pushing the people I thought mattered away.
I quit sleeping around because I thought I found people who wouldn't judge me on how often I get laid.

So why do I still feel like I am getting pushed away.
I'm pretty sure it's all in my head.
But in away that scares me more.

It's been awhile since I've written for me.
It's to the point I don't know how well I recognise the guy who wrote constantly.
A lot has changed...
I fell into love.
Which nearly fell into abuse.
I got a "dream job".
But if I take it I'll be homeless.
I made some great friends.
Who all hate each other.
Through it all I don't know if it's any better than where I was.
It is definitely newer though.
I feel like I've been blessed with opportunity.
And I've never been more terrified.
But nothing great was ever accomplished by someone who was always comfortable.

Drugs and alcohol never gave me the buzz I wanted them to.
But I'll keep taking them anyways.
Only because I want to.
I just don't want to feel like in order to play the keys or write out my mind.
Even if it means retraining myself to focus on something else.
Sometimes I wonder if I'd be a drunk like my father if I were anymore blind.
And I guess the answer is yes.
And I think now is the time to wake up from my rest.
Before I start to forget.