Give my father back.
The man I never got to meet
The man before ptsd
The man before deployment
Give me the father that raised my youngest sister
Give me the father I never had

Give me back my brother
The man who walked hours in flipflops
The man before the triggers
The man before basic training
Give me the brother who was full of mobility
Give me the brother I was raised beside

You can have my ******* freedom
If I can have them back
You can have my ******* freedom

It's been a while,
Hello, Wesley,
I'm Denxai.
I'm you,
A very much changed you
There's been, well, developments.
You've grown.
You've grown a lot.
So, much so,
That you may not recognize yourself
You're Pansexual,
You're non-binary
You're not, alone anymore
At times you're gonna feel that way
You're very likely autistic
You'll be very happy to hear that
I'm really glad you where there
Without you, well there would be no us
I really appreciate you
I don't respect a lot of what you did to survive
But I'm glad you did it
You're happy
Chasing joy
You wake up eary to listen to the birds
you enjoy your job
You're comfortable wit your body.
Well, most of the time
I love you.
I, *******, love you
So please.
Enjoy your rest.

Walking quick I pay no mind
Although your path I'd quickly find

I have always had a fear of heights.
I was reckless when i was young
skirting the edge of my fear while laughing
I never knew where it came from
It's still here as an adult but I think I figured out why
I always knew that falling was bad
Off a stool down the stairs
out of bed
I always knew falling was bad.
Today,
I think I know why the small child that built me
Hated heights
I wanted to jump
If it hurt enough everything would stop hurting
that fear of falling is still bad
But it's the fear of falling not because I want to plummet
But because i want to stay grounded
its still fear but because for the first time it's self preservation

personal accountability
Two words
An arT

It's been almost three years.
I no longer miss you,
Though from time to time,
You cross my mind.
I hope you are well.
I hope your family is, too.

I'm surviving just fine without you,
Eliza.
I'm surviving just fine without
you.

This is why I fought so hard.
The woman who has always loved me
Is right here

And
Life doesn't scare me anymore.

You needn't worry;
For I am here.

To

rub your back
And
kiss your fingers.

To

Brush your hair
And
Make your dinner.

You needn't worry;
For I am here.

to
hear your thoughts
And
Clear your mind.

To
Hold your hand
And
Wipe your tears.

You need not worry, my dear;
For I am here

To
Watch you fight your battles
And
Lift your spirits.

You needn't worry;
For I am here.

You needn't worry;
For I am here.

My least favorite part about the human obsession with education is probably the pretentiousness that follows it at its heel.
For example, I could spend years of my life learning to understand what makes music work;
Music theory.

I could spend hours, days, months, years, or decades studying. I could listen to everything from ancient arts like throats singing like in Mongolia or
Something newer like E.D.M.

Only to have my thoughts. My genuine love of music and the art behind it completely undermined by a classical music elitist with a degree.

How can education be important when you can't educate yourself to be a decent human being? What does bein thousands of dollars in debt and a peice of paper give you that I don't have?

Nothing.
Nothing at all.

There's only one place I can think of that I've ever really felt at peace.
Maybe because I was so ******* young.
Before my own corruption
before my ego
became the demon perched
on my shoulder
fingers digging deep into me.
Maybe it's why I find it hard
to fall asleep on my right side.
I'm learning to smile more,
worry less.
It's hard.
Very hard.
I have a great job
where I work my hardest
to make my customers happy
because
no one should eat in a sour mood.
No one ever said that to me
but I think I'll tell it to my kids.
What a scary thought.
My heads all over the place.
It's been months
Months since I last attempted
to allow my thoughts to shift
from the ever approaching future
to
To
To the bitter and cold spectrum
of human emotion I leave in my wake. Much like the edges of our vast
and ever expanding universe.
I feel I can only move forward
but
I keep finding myself peering to my left shoulder
in hopes that the space where the angel is supposed to guide me from
will no longer be vacant.
My life isn't bad.
My life isn't a waste.
So why,
why do I find myself wishing
Wishing I was dead.
Where do I go from here?
Where do I direct this anger?
Why am I angry?
Why am I so ******* empty?
What could I be missing?

I'm missing something.
I'm missing a lot of things.
I'm missing the point
I'm missing my high school years
I'm missing the light
I'm missing the spring

What's wrong with my head?
What's wrong?

I'm doing something
Something I never thought I would be.
I'm laying in bed  
my first love with me once more

we're mostly quiet
We're listening to the music
The music we used to aleviate the pain
Of our break up

It's odd.
Very odd.
However, I don't mind

It's entirely, too, quiet.

Tonight, for the first time in a long while, I am angry.
This, of course, is to be reread in a very matter of factly and sing-song voice.
I'm not sure where it's coming from;
Perhaps, I am simply exhausted
Perhaps, I am simply exhausted.
This is what I tell myself.
I sit locked away in the bathroom listening to the leaking bathtub faucet.
Honestly, it's rather annoying.
Wasteful.
I'm moody.
Maybe because
I've been smoking so much ***
Or
Maybe I need a stiff,
No very stiff,
Drink.


Drink

Drink
Drink.
I don't know what could be wrong.
I highlight,
in my head of course,
All my flaws
Nothing there
seems to be causing this Anger

Maybe it's all the political turmoil

Though that probably isn't it.

I think

I think

I think I'll shower and have some tea.
Drink some ***
And smoke a bit
Cuddle the beautiful woman
I snapped at
After a very necessary apology
A kiss and some rest.

I'm tired.

So I'm not angry

I'm grumpy.

I'm sorry.

I sit thumbs over my iPods key board
On a bus to work
Thinking back with a feeling;
Longing?
Nostalgia?
Regret?
What is this?
A question with no answer?
Or
A question with many?
Is death's grip on reality
as strong as I perceive?
I remember sitting in your class
I remember thinking endlessly,
"How do I overcome this anger"
When I learned of your death,
I was at home,
Packing,
Planning my escape to the west coast.
Where Summer becomes Fall
And
Fall never ends until Summer's return.

I'm not sure what day it was,
I'm not sure I want to remember.
No, I know I don't.
It's approaching a year.

I regret not seeing you more.
The indefinite absence of you
Has me thinking a lot.

About mortality
About spirituality
About what I can call progress.

Losing you is but growing pains.
Losing you is but life
Losing you is unfair
To the lost sheep you'll never guide
To the path of self worth.
In your place I'll do my best.
But I don't know if my heart is capable of unconditional love
Like yours for your students was.

Something in the way she moves
Attracts me like no other lover
Something in the words she says
Keeps me by her side

In the late hours
Post work
Post civilzation.
When I'm drunk in our room
listening to music
Looking at you.
I realize how lucky I am.

You listen to you my bad jokes
You let me annoy you.
You listen to my music
You're there when I'm *****
and you remind me what it's like
To feel as wanted (sexually)
as I want you

I feel I never tell you enough.
I love you.
I love you.
I love you.

Remember;
things get better.
Little
Large
Relevant
Nonsequester

Work for it
Set little goals

Question your motives.

Beat yourself up for mistakes you make
So that you are the reason you grow stronger

Live for you.
Please no one

Happiness was a dream
I was awake