And so the cycle repeats
From one in-person
To six online,
And the projection for the next year
Is likely to continue
With a moving average
Of about the same lows and highs,
Producing a straight, flat line.

Don’t bet on me.

A tear runs down their face
Falling like a drop of blood
Into a pool of sharks
The fruit is still only maturing
But the monsters fully grown
Won’t wait for it to fall from the tree
You’re so mature for your age
You have a pretty young woman’s face
The boys your age don’t know
How to appreciate a beauty like yours

Silver-tongued devils roam the halls of the church
It couldn’t happen here
Somewhere so sacred and secure
But such places draw the vulnerable and trusting
How could cannibals like them resist
The urge to prey on those who pray so desperately

In the halls of the school
The young are ****** into the final phase
The final ascent to adulthood
The steps will get you there eventually
But there are many with a taste for young blood
Who would be happy to show you the elevator

Upperclassmen, Teachers, Pastors, Family and Family Friends
Those who have positions of power
The trusted and respected
How could I speak out
What risk would that bring me
What if no one believes me....

Monsters, cannibals, zombies, vampires
All fictional to the rest
But for many these evil beings
Are as real as the heart beating in your chest

The worst of it is, they’re told to keep quiet. This could ruin somebody’s life. Without acknowledging that it already has, and that who they’re protecting is the antagonist. I hope you have trouble sleeping tonight. I hope you trust the locks on your doors. Because you’ve caused some to lose the ability to trust at all, and you go on living without remorse. If your only fear is of being caught, or you try to justify what you’ve done. Then I’ll have as little remorse, when the time for reckoning comes. No longer will we tolerate a society that keeps your names and faces safe. Two wrongs don’t make a right, but you’re not dealing with anyone as self-righteous as yourself.

I don’t know my right from my left,
And tomorrow is the first day
Of the rest of my life
Is what everyone tells me.

Are they living in a separate reality than I?
Or are they all just pretending
That the sky isn’t overcast,
And the sun shines brightly?

My heart has a migraine,
And it’s been this way since yesterday:
The last day of the beginning
Of my life.

The forecast tells that the weather
Will remain unchanging
Until I finally get out of bed,
But I can’t bear to see another wasted day.

My heart has a migraine,
And now I might know my right from my left,
But time remains restless,
While I continue letting drain the hourglass—

Will I ever get out of bed?

It’s not what you deserve
Hardly even anything at all
But I can’t bear to look at another missed day

I miss your eyes on me,
And I can’t sleep,
Your voice in my head,
Unable to think,
The mist and the tears,
I can’t decipher between;
And another glass sits empty.

I’m blank of meaning
Without any ideas to say,
Just tell me if I’ve been pushed
From your mind already
Because the silence
Has taken me to an asylum,

And when I yell to the breeze against my face
Barely alive and disregarding speed limits,
I wonder if the lyrics I speak
Tear you to pieces
As they do me,
Since they speak truth better than my own.

When did you forget me?
It’s degrading to only know
By feeling,
And not by telling.
I can taste the sulfur
In the air tonight.

Why didn’t you warn me?

Stripped of rhymes
Stripped of bars
Maintaining only the most basic structure
Maybe this isn’t poetry
But it is creative writing
And I hope you find it illuminating
And thought-provoking.

The people of Oz had their wizard. A legend being capable of great feats. One could only speak to him in his chamber. His mythos came from those he amazed, who would embellish their descriptions of his power so much, that he had to hide away to protect the truth of his abilities or lack thereof. This conundrum does not exist exclusively in fiction. In history, when humankind’s logic was not as keen to such deceptions, many times power was asserted. A small group hides themselves in a cave, coming out to give commands and create rules for people who believed lies. People that believed inside the cave were mystical objects, or deities themselves that granted the small group with wisdom or power to bless efforts and curse dissent. By asserting that the contents of the cave would cause immediate death for those not chosen to see them, they kept their power secure. Such tricks only last as long as people’s fear of an unknown power outweigh their dissatisfaction with their treatment and position as slaves, or their skepticism.

Now today, the ultimate wizard exists. All knowing, all powerful, the definition of goodness, so no order or action can be called into question on the basis of ethics. Invisible to all, except when they used to appear to people all the time before cameras and in a time of legends. Speaking with a voice you hear inside yourself. No one can call into question what you heard, because you’re the only one who heard it, and since you heard it from the all-knowing definition of goodness super wizard, others who believe must follow as if the words did come from such a being, not a mere man. It’s an old trick, but quite effective.

You are the moon in my sky
A constant reminder
Of what I couldn’t possibly have
Without risking everything.
You make me want to change
As my tides abide by your influence,
But you come closer
And push away just as easy,
Just as often.

I want you to stay,
For I am not the one keeping you there,
I’m a mere light on the side of the road,
And tell me, my dear,
How can a streetlight illuminate the moon?
But I can’t help myself from staring
When you show yourself
No matter how close to
Or far away,
A smile takes over my face.

I wish to hold you,
And have you by my side,
Even if it brings chaos and destruction.
I’m drawn to you like gravity
So fly out of reach,
And stop this dance you have with me,
Or give me a chance,
And allow me to show you
What it means
To be infinite.