November 16 tends to be heavy for me, but I say, not this one.  I didn't really get any quality sleep but I will make the day fun.  Start a new job i was offered 2 weeks ago, after being interviewed hungover on my day of birth.  My only gift to you was consent for cremation being the sun ☀ that was born first.  The new moon last night lifted any remaining curse, and gave power to future spells.  1 2 1 2 you already know the groove being Sagittarius born on 12/12.  Twelve is also the number of years today you have been out of your shell.  Yet I know you've been there for me spiritually when I've slipped and fell. Been twelve years since you left this material plane, but I know you know, eye spoke to you the other day.

I love you.  Thank you for allowing me opportunity to live again. 💜

Solo drunken dances on a rickety Milwaukee balcony in the rain.
Leavin' a shred of me wherever I go to create a stain of change.

Strangely sane, in a couple of ways, trying to make every day brighter
Strained grace, shown by my plate, made before the flick of my lighter

Reminded constantly of inevitable shell shedding, so I'm letting my worry go
I'll be okay in the new terrain, paint on my soul a new globe.

Within a state of exploration, we demonstrate the need to go above and beyond
We follow water droplets before we stumble upon the pond.

Here, between the ripples we previously thought we couldn't calm
You see your highest self more clearly than ever before, inside your eyes all along

I watched from a distance as you leapt into it's depths
I wanted to join the soul-lercoaster, but our time hasn't come yet

Still the smile is always there.  Watching each other grow, I don't know what can compare!  It almost isn't fair how rare these moments are, but I choose to be present because everything is a star.  While stumbling upon gems, others go unnoticed.  To me it would seem they're meant to be for another being's focus.

Always one to blow in the wind, eventually, maybe I'll later take root
Inking all over pages carefully composed into a wondrous tale of a book~

I think I'm going to leave the ending, open-ended, such is life.
Let the possibilities flow through, and maybe encourage a few to write.

Tired, but more than enough energy to soar over any plight
I just daydream so much that it's difficult to sleep at night.

But here's a cheers, to you and your existence

May whatever you endure make you feel more replenished
Watching the obstacles behind us, fade away until diminished.
I'm here for you,
Take my hand,
We're not quite finished~

I'm a slave to my mind
always losing track of the days as if they were merely moments

My thoughts are like concrete
quickly drying over my brain
and sealing the cracks from which I take in oxygen

Every time I take a breath
I'm dying
Slowly turning blue from the inside out
And even my skeleton knows what I'm talking about

Ink and lead pump as blood into my carcass
And my rotting body is filled with more words than it is life

Only the good die
and the alarm clock won't stop screaming
Why don't you ever blink?
My voice doesn't echo.
Entropy undoes everything.
The stars go out,
the universe cools,
a closet door creaks open.
My silhouette becomes an infinity of birds

Outgrown human shells litter the earth, emptied and abandoned long ago. I've planted mine and watered it, but nothing has sprouted yet. We grow out of, but never into. I peel apart in layers and I'm starting to wonder when I'll reach the last one, or if I already have. The sandpaper skin underneath should be rough to the touch, but my hands are numb. I have to look down and make sure they're mine. I watch heat waves rise up from the cracks in the pavement and pass right through me. I offer no resistance, I have nothing left to give. I sold my soul for some peace of mind, but it hasn't been delivered yet. It's lost in transit somewhere between yesterday and tomorrow. The voice in my head tells me everything I need to know. I ask no questions because there are no answers. If there's no afterlife I don't want to die. If there's no end to this I don't want to live. I'll just keep on as I always have, drifting through gray tinted days and in and out of consciousness. I'm perfecting the art of invisibility. I see the ghosts of people all around me, but I have nothing to say to them. We're all just passing by, on our way to something else. Never something better, but at least never something worse. We won't know we're there until we're ready to move on.

The sinking of the mid-afternoon sun has yet to lose its magic, but our eyes are unable to recognize the beauty of this world in our old (enough) age. Our surroundings have not changed, but they have changed us.

We close our eyes, blinded by the sun's reflection in the shallow pools of water on the side of the road. With each car we pass, we are getting farther away from a place we once called home. Shadows stretch from barren tree branches and highway signs trying to hold onto the last light of day, but coming up short.  We all come up short in this life.

Our efforts are never enough to stop this dying planet from spinning around the sun once more, but we still try to at least slow it down so we can finally exhale and let go of the air we've been holding in our blackened lungs since the day we were born

It all moves too fast. One minute you've got your whole life ahead of you, and the next you've somehow ended up stuck in a failing relationship or working a job you hate. You never thought you'd make it past high school, and now you're on your own wishing you hadn't.

We're all just wanting someone to stay up with us on the nights when sleep is the last thing on our minds, but we always end up alone, watching the horizon fade to black. The night sky is starless and as empty as we are. Nothing has changed, but nothing's the same. We didn't grow up to be what we thought we would. The sun sets, but we cannot. We will still be awake to greet it in the morning of the next day of our never ending, meaningless lives.

Spring has come around once again and the earth is awakening. Green has been painted over yellow ground and the trees stretch their barren branches to the sky praying for new life. The birds dance across the endless blue skies, announcing their return. The days are getting longer. The sun's rays pierce through the clouds. On certain days, I swear I can feel the wind pass right through me, as if I am nothing more than a shadow, a ghost. How I wish it would pick me up and take me with it. I think something inside of me went to sleep for the winter and never woke back up. Cut me open, tear me apart, and you'll find that I am merely a hollow shell, abandoned.