I know a lot of you guys are dealing with a lot and if you ever need someone to talk to feel free to message me. I would be happy to help, or just be there for you to vent.
         I really wish that Hellopoetry could be more connected. As fellow artists, I challenge you to take a risk and talk to someone on here, even if its just to say you appreciate their work. If you do take that risk, message me and tell me how it goes. Lets turn a website into a family.

xoxo
Court

Death is truly as powerless as life, no dark
dusty closets to examine.
A good life is not one you cry about, but celebrate
celebrate the passing cars, with passing lives, and
the passing person talking far too loudly on a cell phone life
is the wonderful celebration of luck so please live in the spirit of life!
Do not worry about me, god has no more power than a single second,
I’m beyond somewhere, smiling and laughing, if you can handle
the present death will be a cake walk, wonder
where I’m I, but don’t fear for me, being scared of death
is fine in small doses but being forever scared is a sign
of knowing you aren’t fulfilling  your basic human duty,
and are too lazy or scared to change it, yet worry not you can.
Basically forever fearing death means you ****** up at life,
and scared as **** of what level two could be like.

I have lived with far more smiles than many do in a life time.
I have seen the world, have made friends with strangers,
had perfect strangers stumble into my life to paint a perfect night
have listened to the girl quietly strumming her guitar with the birds,
have had strangers attempt to steal my wind, yet wind is plentiful,
so give it, I still have wind.
No money than poverty enlightened my soul, every soul who
has crossed my life, I’m grateful for, you have added a splash of
paint onto the canvas that my soul rests.
It has been the truest honor to be alive to feel the wind
licking my neck, to attempt to add something to this canvas,
no skill more beneficial, unicycling as worthwhile as painting,
just one last bit of parting advice, the one thing that sticks
is memory, leave a positive memory, do it whatever style you
please trust me thats what matters, that’s why
this is called In Case I Die.

What is love?
Lots of positive, passionate feelings

I had my first encounter with beaucrarcy,
the social security offices. Beaucracy is hard to find
but not as hard as I thought it would be, the building number
lied.
The gruff line manager, the room
what I thought a prison line would look like.
Bored brown walls and a long line of people
sitting staticly staring.
****, thank god for the great Walt Whitman.

The number before mine is called, the one after
is mine, it turned out to be mine.
I sit and wait, reading my book.
I keep getting called
thinking that the thick head idiot should get up, until the gruff  guard,
yells my number some snickering, some sweet laughfter
as I yell “yo!” I swear to sweet god I had no clue.

I voyage up to the window, exectping
a slow slog through beaucratic mazes.
So sorry
all smiles, a joke about smash burger
I laugh pretending I have a clue.
My school id got the job done and I brought
everything I joke, no problems,
we laugh she says I’m cute and
that my mother did a bang up job,
if only I could get girls saying the same thing
and a parting piece of advice told laughing:
Just know whenever you are late or there is a delay
god saved you from a car crash,
I love that yet I’m rather concerned that I
have been saved from that many car crashes.

How can you put the idea of luck into words?
It’s like the sun rising and falling at just the right times,
like having a parent who gets you a sweet
jacket that you really didn’t want
but now wear it constantly because it’s a pretty nice jacket.

Luck and air equal in appearance.
It was there for me when I was born, when my parents understood me,
when Sandy hits all of New York but my neighborhood, when
my parents got me my first bike, when
the car managed to not hit me, when I outrun
the fitness coach who was rather angry after I spat at him
when I stumbled across this guy on youtube, who encourages
vegan eating. It feels like immortality, like death really
does not want me, maybe life is stronger and luckier
then death.
It feels like I have a silent guard or guardian always
tipping a domino that leads to me still breathing.
No! Really it encourages the most aggressive dare devil
moves like not touching the ground once in Manhattan
red lights just becoming meaningless colors.    
Perhaps luck is the devil building me up to be
more skilled and better just to shatter the thin air.

In every way luck has been there.
Sure I’ve had ****** moments but they always manage to
feel like a set up for something else.

There is a level of pain between death and making you stronger
that simply hurts, a deep soul wound that never kills.
I’ve always been a “victim” of a pain that makes stronger muscles.

Sure things have came very close.
When I was three or so I was bored and cleaned the house
with chemicals and was blinded for three months,
a neuron or whatever sciency very small unit away from
being blind in my left eye.
but then luck came and I can see fine.

How many times can you get lucky, and no not
in the daft punk way, without feeling
something grander is saving you for something insane
something pure and brilliant like creating a chain reaction
that reaches space?

Or perhaps this is how prophecies get fulfilled?
A mortal gets a gods luck and when the mortal
mistakes them self for a god is when they learn
too late of their mortality?

I first would like to apologize for getting rather mad,
calling you a stupid *****
and saying it was a “hit and run” to the police,
also in hindsight spitting at you was not cool.
I feel bad about it now,
and it will haunt me for a while,
or at least until something else comes up.


You shattered my wings,
granted they were glass wings and
when you’re throwing yourself through the narrowest possible canyons
getting hit is almost certain still, it *****
the wind out of you, even if just for a second.


I love jumping through
canyons daring gravity to do its worst, but I was playing by the rules,
respecting nature
or at least I planned on not breezing by the sides as much.
I guess its habit now, to risk getting shattered for
the freedom of movement in a restricted space.

I swear when I hit the ground I was ready to walk away
I was intact.
Ready
to continue on my way and saying “yeah I’m fine”,
learn nothing and find smaller canyons.
but when I saw the bird you hit, my brain
sprinted for the worst.
That knocked the wind out of me.
Instantly I thought it was completely ******,
and while I still do have my wings,
you shattered part of my glass illusion.
Thank god for repair shops.

You see you own the skies your kind controls
the canyons walls, make them zig then zag that way.
Sure their are bigger gods,
but they only show up from time to time. I’m part of the skies
but my only possible responsibility is to not
hit the birds.
The rules say I need to act like you,
but the rulers let us fly our own ways.
The bigger gods understand or just don’t care.

So next time just know that the rules
are not the ones in physics textbooks, those are
often confusing and require years worth of reading,
of understanding billions of acceptions of knowing what
the hell centripetal force is, and being able to solve painful
multi variable calculus problems
the way physics actually works is what happens when
the winds take glass
and you, being a god got careless and broke the laws of physics.

So there is this girl,
I’m in awe of her, and maybe a bit of a bored teenager.
Stunning songs about Lady Bugs about being trapped.
I changed and hide my colors manipulated things to create contrast,
to attempt to build trust, maybe I’m just being mellow dramatic.
I created a nicer self for her. It all happened in a moment.
When you are a blob (human) changing shapes is not very hard.

I finally understand how much happens in a single second.
Endless tourists are taking photos.
People are fighting for their lives in every way imaginable.
A couple is having a fight that may
or may not determine the fate of them.
A singer bows, endless people crossing the street.
Seven billion hearts are beating.
All of this and I have a crush
in one second.

A quiet goddess,
the kind of person who knows how it feels
to feel lost, and hurt but bears the burden,
I hope to god I’m doing her justice.
She is dyslexic so, in turn for
not being able to spell (that’s dead anyway)
she can describe the purest claustrophobia
without even giving a space.
The kind of person who sings stunning sentences
casually and then looks surprised at any awe.

I tell her my feelings in a rather awkward way that I intended to be an
immodest joke after she describes her plan to marry
Jack Wasp-something and
how her phone auto corrects perfection for his name.


She says that she wasn’t ready for boys at that time,
it was probably not her finest poem,
using trite ideas “it’s not you it’s me” and nice
touches like she would have told everyone the same answer,
it got the job done,
was genuine and
a complete pain killer.
I ended up agreeing with her.
“High school relationships always die with. . .”
I have no clue if I agreed because the prospect was too real
or because it really was a quietly brilliant series of words
Sometimes though its nice to play pretend for a while.


It kinda ***** knowing that door is wide open and
nothing lies behind it, at least with the door closed
you can imagine what lies behind it.
Can desperately try to open it, with
grand ideas about what’s there.



Now that her painkillers have worn off
and I have far too much free time
I sit here deeply confused — about what I’m not sure,
I guess I want to play pretend.