The emptiness in my eyes,
The truth behind my lies,
The fall before my rise,
And the goodbyes;

It scares me.

The dark beneath my skin,
The light within my sins,
The voice that loudly sings,
And my broken wings;

It scares me.

The wounds I can't heal,
The pain I can't feel,
The loss I can't deal,
And when I am real;

It scares me.

The silence in my little talks,
The stillness in my moonlit walks,
The thought of separate ways,
And my numbered days;

It scares me.

The demons under my bed,
The words spinning in my head,
The blood in my sweat,
And my cold breath;

It scares me.

-Paras Bajaj #PoetrybyParas
Instagram : @mr.parasbajaj

We have a unique opportunity
during this time
To expand
A wave of consciousness
has arrived to expand our way of being
with life, with ourselves, with each other
It's here to change and challenge our
old beliefs
and our way of life
It's uncomfortable
It's confronting
It's necessary
And as we slow down
We will see ourselves more deeply
We will see others more deeply
We will become aware of
our higher self
our higher purpose
And in this space
We will expand together

I hate the saying, "Baby's Mama."
It's so ******. As I drifted off to
sleep last night, crocked on a plethora of
pills, and the remnants of *****, I thought
to myself, She's a little bluebird that
burrowed in my heart.
I laughed and slobbered, and drifted
into the warm fuzzy black.

She's intuitive, she asked me to let
the nurse know that her and the kids were
coming so that there would be a smooth
transition with staff. Hospitals can be
peculiar when it comes to visitation with children.

So she asked me how I wanted to refer to her.
She's the Mother of my 2-year old
daughter, and she has a 10-year old boy
that I have been around for 6 years.
He's like my own son, but 'technically,  he's not.
I don't want to offend anyone. It's all so
******* complicated. I could say, "This is Bonnie,
I'm Clyde, and this is our gang." They probably
wouldn't laugh. I feel very comfortable saying,
"These are our kids, and this is their Mom"

If the kids weren't in ear-shot and I felt
like a rapscallion, I might say,"This is a woman
that I used to love and **** a lot! Finally we had
our daughter- WOW- AMAZING! ! !
The boy came along before I met her, but I love him
like my own son- always and forever."

Anyway, this is my daughter, and my son, and a woman that I used to
love and **** a lot, also, a fantastic Mother, and when
I'm twacked out d-toxing- drifting off to sleep, and
laughing about what to call her, I might just call her
my little bluebird, that burrows in my heart.

I just want it to end.

The hopelessness, the fear,
the constant critic in my head:
I've lived with them all for too long.

All I've ever known is this war, this endless battle.
There's nothing wrong with wanting it to end.
To wish that it didn't is cruel.

But why can't the best solution be the simplest?
Why do I have to keep fighting?

At times it's deafening,
and I'm so exhausted.

Why can't I just lay down in no man's land
and let this battle fall silent around me?

Why can't that be the end?

Because... I'll never know what's possible.

alone in the darkness
i stare blankly
at the night sky
the memory of you
outshining every star
and although i am alone
your ghost
is there to hold me
and i know my bones
will miss you
until they are but ashes
blowing in the wind.