Just talk to me.
I know, I know.
I can see.
You're not sure where to start.
All of those thoughts.
Running, racing through your head.
All at once.
I can see you reliving every moment
Every scenario that led you
Just focus on here.
Focus on me.
No, don't look away.
Eyes on me.
I know sometimes it seems
Like the world is caving in
Crushing you under its weight.
You carry it.
You've made it look easy.
Let me carry it for a while.
Let me help you carry it
You still don't know where to start.
Those thoughts of yours
Still racing, flying, tangled
Crashing into each other.
Listen for a second.
Don't try and sort them
In order of importance.
It doesn't work like that.
Which thought is loudest?
Based on true events.
Tomorrow's sun brings icy wind
And hearts entwined are torn again
The wings of angels bleed and break
Reflections dance on mirror lake.
The stars are falling one by one
Darkness consumes until it's done
And fragrant flowers bow their head
The dancers' feet are made of lead.
And cities crumble brick by brick
And flame ignites the candle's wick
As icy wind begins to blow
The dancers' feet begin to slow.
Tomorrow's wind brings burning rain
All living creatures shall be slain
And after rain comes deathly chill
The dancers' feet, at last, are still.
I have been told
To let it go
As if my past
Is something I'm hanging on to.
They got it wrong.
If my past could be
Thrown against rocks,
Against bricks and shattered
And disposed of,
That'd be okay with me.
Instead, it sticks
Like honey or glue
That covers clawed hands
Gnarled and grabbing.
It is a thing alive
And breathing and fighting.
A parasite and I am its host.
I'm not hanging on to my past.
It's hanging on to me.
Classrooms are what you make of them
Empty faces, cotton filled ears
The spark of something new in the eyes of a few
The glaze of sleep in most.
Anticipating the day they are freed.
Professors who do their best not to reflect the boredom
That they sense thick as tar in the closed up space.
Windows shut, blinds down.
They hope their pupils make something of themselves.
One girl in the corner jotting down notes,
Too slow before they're erased.
She holds on to imagination as much as she can,
It stretches thin as it flees from her.
She hopes she can make it strong again.
The boy in the back always has his head down,
Never fully present,
Never to be whole again.
Loss is a bullet none can dodge.
He hopes the wound will heal.
And the ******* her laptop before class begins.
Typing what she sees in the guise of prose
Desperately hoping the creativity she lost,
Can find it's way back to her.
My favorite time of morning,
Is when darkness yields to dawn,
And the light of daybreak signals,
That it's time to carry on.
As gentle as a mother's touch,
It beckons us to wake.
For daylight brings new life,
And wide-eyes bliss and risks to take.
As some of us awaken,
Many more are lulled to sleep,
And we among the living,
Have some promises to keep.
We haven't been here very long,
Still childlike at heart,
And holding onto hope of something more,
And so we wait for morning,
And seek shelter from the night.
As brave as we pretend we are,
We're creatures of the light.
My muddled mind makes quite a mess
Of thoughts and crumbling words
I think I know what’s going on
But every sentence goes unheard
And after empty conversations
My mind just empties out
And every thought I thought I had
Escapes and I must go without
I wonder what would happen
If I just decide to change
My mind and heart and soul and life
And maybe then I’d rearrange
My thoughts which fly disorganized
And will not let me be
I wonder if I changed all that
What would be left of me?
How ever did it happen,
That I never fell in love,
When eyes like yours could rival oceans blue and skies above?
How ever did I manage,
Not to run into your arms,
When every broken smile you gave was laced with all your charms?
How ever did I wave goodbye,
When our paths began to part,
And I was left alone with just the pounding of my heart?
How ever was I happy,
When you were no longer there,
And I found peace and joy within the stillness of the air?
And when did it occur to me,
That none of it is true,
But every road I travel down just leads me back to you?