Open hands.
open eyes.
open ears.

Mindfulness, told me to care.
It didn't let me know how to deal -
how to deal when others don't.

Mother, Father, Brother, and Sister
everyone I've ever known,
how do you deal with the loss of feeling.

How does one cope without
an ear to the ground, an eye out for another,
and hands ready to pull people up out of their stupor.  

Yesterday, my cousin died.
I had no relationship with him
other than when people I know
talked about him going in out and jail.

I contacted all his brothers and sisters,
no one had spoken to him in years
and his overdose was met with a shrug.

He might have been the worst kind of person
and still here I am meeting his end
with confusion and unknowing
for why his life couldn't have been different.

Can you love me,
Can you love me -
as if I was an ocean breeze
crooning through your hair,
reminding you of simple love.

The kind of love you knew as a child,
the soft touch of your parent's hand on your head
as you fall asleep for an afternoon nap.

Can I be your love,
I want to be the gust of air
that soothes your heart,
and reminds you of what it really means to have crush.

The kind of crush,
that brings you well-back to middle school,
where chocolate and gummy candies
showed devotion, and everyone knew it was real.

I love you,
whomever you are -
I love you.

I'm so tired

It's obvious what I am tired of.
I'm tired of living the life I have,
but I can't stand the idea of making it worse.

Aren't we all afraid -
the grass might always be greener on the other side,
but it's always safer to stay on your own lawn
instead of tempting neighbours to
treat your trespassing kindly.

"It'll only be a second, I'm trying to get somewhere better."

"Kid, you better get back on your own side..."

"Please, I only need to find something to live for."

"This is the last time I'm going to warn you...kid"

There's a fire raging through your life
and the only solace you've been granted
is the one that leaves you dangling
with a perspective half-cocked
towards living and the other towards penance.

Suddenly you're awake*

It's the middle of the night
the Sun is on another continent.
You know this, because the first thing
you do every morning is check your phone,
pleading it's not too late
to sleep another fifteen minutes.

-it's not too late-

(with burning eyes you seethe at yourself
for forgetting to turn the brightness down...again).

-You are fully awake-

Here you are
having the energy you'd
die to have when lifting pallets at work,
or spending time with friends later that evening.

-Why am I so awake?-

-You begin to listen-

You don't hear any sounds that would have woken you up.

-You begin to check for sore spots-

The only spot that hurts is your elbow, but it always stings a little, ever since you tripped over your own shoe in the hallway, (which reminds you not to trip over it again, since it's never not in the hallway).

-You start thinking-

It couldn't have been Missy, because
you haven't been able to find your cat the last couple days.
Your roommate won't be back until tomorrow, since they're visiting their family all the way out in Wyoming.

-You turn on your side-

Staring at the wall, you notice that your eyes have almost finished adjusting to the dark.

Turning to your computer, you look for the ribbed moonlight that spills across the monitor every night, that helps ease you to sleep any restless moment.

Oddly, there isn't any moonlight.

There'll be a time
where we only speak on holidays.

Today, hearing about how you're doing
is like hearing birds chirping in the morning.
It's something that brings peace
to a world that is otherwise unpredictable.  

We take it for-granted our easy talks;
the randomness of thoughts, ideas, and play
that will wither with time.

Some people wish they could be a kid again,
and it's for the very reason of what we have right now -
a relationship that allows us to be who we are;
young adults not stuck being too serious.

You're so busy and I know I'll be busy one day too.
You'll meet more people, wonderful people.
I'll get a full-time job, with a regular sleep schedule.

Talks that used to be the most important
will settle to be thoughts of distant memories -
memories to be remembered on holidays.

There's a boy, or girl, or any living thing that you can relate to.

Maybe it's not even living
it's a stuff animal that you anthropomorphized
to become your best friend,
because everyday is spent glazing
the abstract of news articles.

What's special about a bestfriend
that doesn't rely on you for talking,
or even breathing.
You can actually be yourself,
instead of who they want you to be.

Man, if we were even more honest
I mean people...I mean subterraneans,
because let's be deep, only those
living underground, like me, are going to understand.

The ground is life
and I'm being buried beneath;
it's quite better than being on top.

I can't be anything;
relating to anyone isn't even worth reading
as the only language I've perfected
is the one communicated by my Rhino
and that's silence.

Some days, being me is a burden.
Not onto others, but onto myself.
Those around me do not respect me.
But when they seek memories of better times,
I will be the one they ask to speak.

Education was a tool intent on developing me,
instead it became the ropes that bind me to my family.
These ropes latch me to a home I have outgrown,
but no one allows me to leave.

Instead of vindication
I have found desperation.
Those who know me speak fondly
of my aspirations, but do not realize
that their praise weighs more than,
the stone god was unable to budge.

I lie to you -
true agony is not shelved upon by others,
it is the listless illusions I pander to myself.
The ambitiousness of decision making
and feeling that any course directed by my own hand
will end wastefully.