My mother was a writer.
I remember her,
papers spread out upon a bed sheet in the sand,
stacked pebbles protecting her work from the wind
as I made drip-castles at the water's edge
and braided crowns from wild poppies.
I would run to her so she could
rub grape sunscreen into my sandy shoulders
and I asked her once,
“Mama,
is that poetry?”
and she said “No little one,
you are poetry,
this only tries to be.”
and I thanked her,
and ran back to the water
to search for flat stones to skip,
and thought no more of poetry.

Synthesizing, compromising my semantics
I warp the story for the glory of romantics
You roll your eyes and say my lies are just my antics
And it's true, but it's for you, I'm sycophantic.
My need is frantic, transatlantic, it's gigantic
We feed off pain but the most gain is when I'm manic
I fear you'd run but then the fun for you's volcanic
So full of shells we call ourselves we're, like, satanic
Stay, play, pray that we like it this way
Love me like an addict just don't mean what you say
Cause if you do, and it's all true, life's a smoke and I'm your ashtray
If you'd rather be dead then you can't love me in the right way.
You're Chaos, I'm Calypso
You taste sweet on my lips though
Numb 'em up like yayo
I think I want some more though 'cause
Synthesizing compromising your semantics
You warp the story for the glory of romantics
I roll my eyes and say your lies are just your antics
Hey, yippee, you're just like me
We're sycophantics.
This beautiful madness we support like Atlas dive into the vastness and embrace the blackness
Rip into my skin I'm a succulent cactus, please survive the poison the pain's to distract us
We'll never know what makes us grow
Without the lows I could not flow
So let's be brave, **** Plato's cave and ride the wave 'till we're depraved
Because boy
I want to take care of you
I want to share with you
Lay bare with you
Because love is pain but I'm not scared with you
Walking on air with you
Electric chair with you
I'd cheat on myself for an affair with you
Dance Latin squares with you
Break chinaware with you
I'd be both baby and mama bear for you
Play solitaire with you
Make liquid air for you
And you're the worst and it's not fair, it's true
But if my name is blue
Well then I love you too.

Depression is when the clouds leave you for a while, but they stand, hovering, remnants of it leaked into the atmosphere, and if one little thing goes haywire, well, then it comes back. And hard. It is not something that can go and stay for a little while. It's always there, hovering, waiting for the right time to strike.

Look at you, growing so fast.
I would not actually know though.
Because our time together only one day, did it last.

I know you're happy, with your mom, and your dad.
I hope that you get everything you wish for.
They were really great people so I'm sure it can't be bad.

One day, if you find me, I'll explain to you why.
Why you were given away, the day you were born.
Now, 5 years later, I sit on my tailgate and cry.
I think about all the days since, that have passed me by.
But I know it's for the better, for you and for I.

What is more important
Than time?

I may not be able
To give you many things
But you will have
My time
My attention

What is more important
Than listening?

I can lend you
My ears

I am hearing you

I am listening to you
As you
Express your life

I may not be able
To give you the things
That you thought you wanted

But I am giving you
My life