The times when I don't feel like I can
is when I can the most.

I can climb through the wind if I want,
and the rain won't pummel me down.

I can walk a thousand leagues,
and the devil won't get to me.

I can stand like a glass jar,
I won't tip.

Where I am and where I stand,
it's impossible for my knees to bend in.

I smile and hope
that this temporary confidence will stay.

Blossom is the word of the day.
I am imagining it
as I stand in the hallway.
I am on the hardwood floor
but I see something else around me.
There's fog
and blossoms.
I'm walking on a balancing beam,
stretching across to and from
somewhere I don't know.

And again in my room.
I am standing in a place I don't know,
but I feel special and beautiful doing so.
That's "light."

"I need health"
is what I wrote on my desk,
so that I won't die
being the same as I lived.
Repair my skin,
repair my sins.
I am falling to the ground.
Give me a change of self.
I can hardly stand these pins.

I decided I really like the word "light,"
and I hope it likes me back.
It's not about life,
but about the objects that make it great,
like the sun and lampshades.

Light makes me feel inspired.
It makes me want to run
but also stand still.

Put light on me
like a dress,
to dance around
and take pictures with.

Sometimes I wonder if my memories
are just dreams.
If they're things I made up;
they didn't happen to me.
If I gave myself years and years of pure dishonesty-
compulsively redeciding what my past should be.
Did all those events, conversations, lies
never even take place,
and how can I be sure?
What if these things I'm remembering
never even occurred?
What if I'm crazy and nobody has told me?
What really happened all these years?
Did I not have to shed all those tears?
Maybe I danced and sang like a little child would-
was the world happy and feel as it should?
Was I taken hostage and never let go?
Am I in this room right now,
or is this just a mind show?
Where am I at,
and where have I been?
Does that affect where I'm going and who I am?

Caraphernelia.
I understand the word at all times.
You left me things
that shutter my eyes.
And when I wake up,
there's too much light.
I stumble around,
trying to close the blinds.

Caraphernelia.
I comprehend it with all my might.
Bring me the things
that will cut open my soul.
And when I try to sleep at night,
I think of ways to make me feel whole.
But after my rest,
I forget my ideas and return to
the misery on my chest.