Cut the pretense.
We both know
--we as in me
and myself
looking in the "I" of the beholder--
that you're scared.

Every fiber
of my being
fights against this pen
this hand
these thoughts

What to think?
Maybe forcing thought
is my form of rebellion
You can't invade
if thoughts are
my barricade
so I build
piling high rhymes
pseudanymes for good times
--words that are not my own.

What do I own?
I borrow my words,
my thoughts,
my emotions.

Do I go through the motions?
Or have I learned how to respond
as anything besides a pawn
in a game I don't even
know how to play?

Just stay.
If you're in quicksand,
sink.
If you're thirsty,
drink.

And  t h i n k.
Think for yourself.
Your mind is your weapon
as is your heart
so play your part
with courage
for you were cast for a reason.

Embrace your season.
Bear the cross
and let it be messy.
Nobody believes that it's easy
so stop resisting
and start lifting
Let yourself be strong
Let yourself be weak
Let yourself  b e.

Your strength is your presence.
Your weakness, your solitude.

"Yourself to yourself--"
too near, or too far?
Can you even determine
proximity
when reality and reverie
blend more often than not?

Be at peace.
Stop resisting.
Know where you stand,
and have a seat.

We've been waiting for you.

I reach out
b e c a u s e
I want someone
to reach back.

"Who ever loved who loved not at first sight?"
You see, I think that was my first mistake.
For I am in a familiar plight-
before love is offered, I rush to take
the things I think someday I will desire
(not to say that I do not want them now)
then mind feeds heart events that "may" transpire
while flustered heart forms a glistening brow.
I get worked up over my fantasy
and stumble, blind, through each and every day
until my Brother I no longer see
and view, instead, the source of my dismay.

My first response: to loathe with all my might.
I can't bear to dream of your face tonight.