It's like falling into a giant can of black paint.
You can't really see what you're getting yourself into.
You just have to trust that ******, pulsating mess in the left side of your chest and your ability to swim. Most importantly your ability to swim.

I'm not alone by any means but I stare at the phone in the hope it rings as my mind sways back and forth between beautiful nightmares and tattered dreams. A crafted scene of an awkward teen becoming a more awkward adult but with spending power. Spending hours looking at his phone and spending time alone when he'd like to be spending ours at least hours away from his own home where it barely rains but always showers. I mean, spend an hour in my shoes and you'll see there's not much there but a size 12 sole that's built not to falter but take a 23 year old soul with dreams of going to the altar in the next 5 years and watch the soul crumble over hysterical mumbles while he stares at his phone another night with a hoping for vibration rumbles. Time, thanks, thoughts and those ideas that creep in at night  you think are right even though you know they're not...

I just can't be doing this in my 40s.

roses are red
violets are blue
its almost valentines day
but I don't **** with you

you're happier without me
I understand that
just please don't rub I'm the fact that you're okay
& I'm not
I can't stand to see you smile.

"It's ok to cry just don't let them see."
Words my mother taught me.
She never told me who "them" was supposed to be.

So I assumed them was the world and built up walls.
Not to push people away,
just to protect myself-
from unspecified dangers and risks.
Like heartbreak, and heartache and being breakable.

But brick by brick you're crumbling those walls.
Without even trying, there's no force at all.

And I feel like Jericho,
where suddenly I'll be open...
And what if I get burned too?