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Alex Smith May 2019
I am the god
Of my own life -
A songbird to sing
And cling
To those who I love.
I am the author
Of my own story,
My mind is the pen
And hand
With which I write
And scribble new lines -
I am the divine.
Bless'ed be the time
Which I feel beautiful;
Amazing tis the feeling
To feel wonderful,
Incredible.
To share this feeling with others
Is an aptitude
Of a wondrous attitude.
To love yourself
Is to bury your own soul
Into your own heart.
Alex Smith Apr 2019
Like an albatross
I criss then cross
Lines of red ink on me
And what's the cost?
I keep fighting,
But lost
And cut my right ear off
Like Evander Holyfield
Or Van Gogh,
An artist,
Now trust.
And me the curse
Who only gets worse
The more you get to know him.
Everything I do
Is a ******* sin.
And life is a pool
I can't jump in-
I can't swim
And then I sink
And think
Of those who can't swim too
In my ocean of negativity
And dying virtues.
These are my cues
To leave out
And choose
The ones who know what
I'm about
Before I lose
My sanity to clout
And pick a fool
Like me.
A maniac and insomniac
And freak show
To be.
Alex Smith Apr 2019
I think I'll live 'til I'm 50
If I'm lucky
Strivin'
Survivin'
Man, this life is sucky.
Think I'll live 'til I'm 50
Getting thrifty
Nifty,
Tryin' to get out swiftly
Failed to execute
The time absolute
To be the better one
When I left you-
When I left home
And now I'm grown
With an identity unknown.
Think I'll live 'til I'm 50
Reminiscin' the times when
We would get shwifty,
And now I'm just waiting
For some to lift me
**** me
Whip me-
Maybe that person needs to be me.
Due to the nicotine
And LSD
And DMT
And other things
Ruining my psychology
I'm lost,
Running around like a boy
Only leading to a criss cross
And zig zags,
I miss the life
And prospects I once had.
If I'm lucky,
I'll live 'til I'm at most 50.
Alex Smith Apr 2019
It's been a year since my suicide attempt. Right now, I'd be in the ER waiting to find out which inpatient clinic I'd go to. One year. Since, I have escaped from toxic people and shifted from an old self. One year. What do I have to show for it? Emotional outbursts? A nicotine addiction? Abandoning my creativity? A battle with a psychological addiction to psychedelic drugs? What does progress look like? What does it mean to reconstruct yourself? A building torn - that's what I am. A prairie, a forest, which has experienced a wild fire. Beyond recognition, I deface myself - as if to erase myself and destroy the things I like. What does progress look like? Am I getting there? In my view, progress is not always seen by you directly. It is not our job to determine if we make progress, but, by the value of people and situations in our lives, we will have it be seen. To do things for ourselves is wonderful. But, what does progress look like? It looks like making giant leaps forward - and then three steps back. It looks like dipping our toe in the water, and then wanting to dry off. It looks like it's perfect, but actually not. It looks like a broken toy fixed with expired super glue. Who are we to determine progression? It's an obsession of the mind for us to think that progress means we must always be fine - that we must be perfect. If I have a million irrational thoughts in a day, does that make my one totally rational thought insignificant? I think not. If I spend one day totally upbeat, productive, and happy - are my sad feelings any less valid? No. So, progress looks like this: admitting to yourself that sometimes we won't have things together completely. We acknowledge it, think rationally, and move to the next focus. Progress is not total immunization of our quirks, but it is less demonization for how we work. Our brains - they want to help us survive. The brain gets confused among irrational thoughts and can jump and put us in an emotional turmoil jeopardy. But, be kind to yourself. Be kind to the "miswires" in your brain - because it cares for you and wants you to survive. Strive. What does progress look like? I'm not sure if I can see mine - I'm not sure what it totally looks like. But, maybe, look in a mirror. See yourself - the reflection of desire. Aspire to be who you are, judgement free. In a sort of clarity, you can see. Ask yourself:
"What does progress look like?"
It looks a bit like you.
Alex Smith Mar 2019
We feel ******* vibrations
When our skin touches
And I place lips on your lips
And grab your hips.

And you bury your face in my neck
And it fits perfectly.
Make the love to me -
But without any penetrating
Because your voice alone
Can be my release
And your kisses
Are an ejaculatory
Ecstasy.

So bite me.
Alex Smith Mar 2019
Breaths come in and out
Our open mouths -
But this time you gasp
And grasp
For the words to speak instead
As they form inside your head.
Alex Smith Mar 2019
Racing through life
On tracks like train cars.
But we move too fast
To appreciate the now,
Now.
An alternate title: Metra fare
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