Passing hues of greens and blues,
Days strewn across acres of snow,
His time grown longer,
Past the fading of moons,
Through the winding chimes of fall.

I can see it now,
Though it isn't clear,
It's enough to say I've done something,
To say that I'm not alone,
In a world where being alone is praised.

Black interior seats envision me,
Wrapping around the slightest of sounds,
Completing the time against reeled hooks,
His grown up and realizing,
Things will never be perfect,
But it's good enough to keep pushing.

I can see it now,
Though it isn't clear,
It's enough to say I've done something,
To say that I'm not alone,
In a world where being alone is praised.

******* down fading brains,
Showing up to broken theater shows,
Shaking hands too wet to breathe,
Sinking eyeballs into the deep oil.

Cooler boys rested up on champagne,
Cooped up inside muddled sounds,
Crouching under bright green pathways,
Crumbling stones on tombstones.

Acting up to start a hurricane,
Accepting a life worth living,
Ate all of his supper with gratefulness,
Account for all the crowns left rotting.

Read moss covered signs,
Record voices among trees,
Rescue his passion from a grimy sea,
Receive praise and survive.

End with a bright yellow,
Entrance eyes and more to discover,
Enter with a word in hand,
Escape death with a breath of passion.

Dreaming thoughtfully over miles of land,
Dusk approaches his feet and brightens the night,
Drumming out fears of growing old,
Doors lead to newer worlds that he never believed real.

Curves and lines,
Shapes and areas,
Crowded around in art,
A creative mind full wreck of youth,
He’s healing.
Being bathed inside of his room,
A room of green,
A room of stale ideas come to life.
He’s got his hand on the future,
But taking the step scares him the most,
He’s ready,
He knows he is,
He’s been through years,
And those years killed fears,
But along with his friends.
Though he’s lost all meaning to losing friends,
He knows they mean well and he’s got more to see,
So watch him heal,
His eyes are more blue than they’ve ever been,
His head is clearer with every sip of bleached river water.

Indents and impressions,
Bends and rounds,
Sending signals of health and healing,
Sent home to where the family under the roof welcomes him inside of his dreams,
So if you’re okay with him,
He’ll take that step to a new day,
A sunny summer day in the middle of winter,
He’ll sleep on a rainy day,
But only be more productive the very next,
He’s doing change,
Allegories and curses inside his brain becoming strangely kind and hopeful,
He’s loving it by loving himself,
In a way of which is hopefully not conceited,
As he hopes he never becomes,
Green envelopes healing boys,
Green screens the depression’s knife from viewing.
Green is the color of winning in his roomy world.

arms and legs
spell untimely stories
just as eyes
are the windows to souls
the scars on foreheads
and the bruises on hands
take home
the stories you dont want told

Here in the dark I will park,
In my spot where I taught,
All my thoughts to flock,
Inside of my head when I'm in my bed,
But when the sun goes I'm not done,
For it's the night that brings me to fight,
If a battle is what I need then hear my bones rattle,
Cause I'm never letting go before I have something to show,
Something to show that I've been through a war, Call fore!

We trade our homes for obsidian stones,
To build our walls inside our bones,
Not to hide but to thrive,
Inside our minds which we believe are fried,
Awakening a soul we lost so long ago,
So we're ready to grow.

My car's on fire so my time is dire,
Heart getting harder with each time I get farther,
From the state of mind that kept me bind,
To a wall to a constant fall,
Of which takes away the best of a day,
Not anymore, I promise, not anymore.

We trade our homes for obsidian stones,
To build our walls inside our bones,
Not to hide but to thrive,
Inside our minds which we believe are fried,
Awakening a soul we lost so long ago,
So we're ready to grow.

Follow me until you reach my breaking point,
The point I've been at since he began,
What could possibly be worse than losing to myself?
I can't answer that question with the state that I'm in, the place that I'm in,
Do I want to heal is a question again I ask myself,
Keep promising that I do but I'm still stuck,
Stuck with the person I praised and named.

In between two lines and a half,
I'm dividing myself into halves,
And then into quarters,
Letting a poison point blend into my soul,
Carving in words of passion to drive my parts to passionate purpose that only I create.

For only I have the key to my mind,
But it's the lock I must find,
I could go in circles until I never find it,
The need to diverge,
Not to separate myself but to clean up the floor,
It's the only way I understand how to control.