White light.
Beams blazing like lazers as the blind slightly shifts and back
Back to darkness.
Again. White light. Black. White light. Black.
Blindness and blindness and light and black.
Back and forth.
Tap. Tap. Tap.

The End.

The best of us comes out when the rest of us is gone.

At least,
I hope that's the case as I just want to save face and get away when my days face me with the longest ways around.

The depression sets as I attempt to find my faded song's wasted namesake.
Looking for a better view of the days whereupon my incessant sighs are drawn.

Drawn like a depressive sketch,
With the pencil marks parked along the secrets to peace's faded spark.

My fallacy, you see,
I'd rather breathe within the seas than have to see these things the way they've gone,
Strung me along the heartstrings stretched so thin as to nigh be my patience with this broken masterpiece.

And so,

The best of us are broken when the rest of us are gone.

But, the best in us comes out,
When the rest of us is wrong.

My heart swells with the capacity to love every single person I can touch
It throbs with the smiles and laughs,
Aches with the giggles and whispers,
And it swoons with every compliment and hug.
I jump the gun every morning, sending my entire heart to all I can.
I keep to them, responding quickly.
I am a fix, expendable.
I know what it’s like to hurt! To need that smile, that hug, that giggle.
And I know how hard it is to find. So I became what I once needed,
A homing beacon. A sign that tonight, even when I wanna drown myself and end my life for good, these emotions are as temporary as a laugh.
I taught myself to love the masses, even in the face of mental discord between my mind and my depression.
I taught myself to hold a shaking, breaking body together till they mended
Even if I was hanging on by mere threads.
Because I know that I am expendable.
I do this because my heart is big.
So big it cannot hold my self-love inside but instead it can distribute it.
I depend on everyone to hold my love so I am not faced with the opportunity to love myself.
Nothing, not even my own breaking and quaking soul can stop me from building a person.
And at the end of the day, I think that helps me get by in my own catastrophic mess.

Before we begin, some of you may remember this poem. Back in early summer I submitted it for a contest and have recently received word that it will be published in a book!! The finished copy is much cleaner and simpler, but here it is again in its rawest and most original form! ♡
----------------

The softest things seem to
Slip
Past our eyes without ever a
Second Glance.

When met with a second option,
Nostalgia and Regret
BATTLE
It out, fist to the flames.

head turns to my loyal disciple, pen at ready

He tells me honest emotions,
Ragdoll plagues drenched in

Formaldehyde wet-suits.

My heart a heavy
Disco
When your loving voice cradles me.

No, not a crush.
Our towers hold relationship rules
HOSTAGE.
Prayers for another at the
Altar of our Chapel.

Castle grounds of our giggles,
Bewitched by bangles of cedar cares.
Oblong shapes, color-coded and precise
Beg to be
BLED
Into blocks of games and fun.

Postscript to entertainer

Nothing is harmful
when I'm with my Lizzy...
No glimpses of future, but an eye on the past.
But, oh but for now,
Let us bask is rosy-cheeked riots
Friend of mine.