Are you strong enough to be my man?

No, this is not a Sheryl Crow song.

This is my question to you.

I don't think you are.

You shy away from passion.

You lurk in the shadows of truth.

You cower from taking a stand.

I revel in my strength,

In my complexity,

In my depth.

I know myself.

Rise up, man!

Rise up if you have something to show.

Come on, let's spar.

I didn't think so.

You couldn't handle me anyway.

Radiant, glowing, waiting, knowing

Wanting to leap

Watching the sky and what’s below simultaneously

Freedom within your grasp

Yet slowly, slowly…retracting

You can hear my whispers on the wind

Gaze into my eyes by the light of the moon

You surrendered before

But felt pain in your freefall

Not the wings you anticipated.

Unbind your wings!

They never left you

Break the silence with your wild song

Run! Come find me again!

I’m here. You cannot get lost.

My beacon is shining bright

Strong, sure, unwavering, focused

On you, only you

Guiding you

All you have to do is follow and trust

As you get closer, your wings loosen from the reins that held them back

Their massive, glorious structure longs to unleash their strength

To stretch to their full span

Blinding light exuding

Whipping through the air

Creating powerful gusts that send your thoughts, your love

Rushing straight into my heart

You are weightless and golden like the rays of the sun

Believe again

Let is reside in the garden of our souls

Let us feel what it’s like to finally be home

I want to go to a place
where I hear music like Bob Seger and Pat Benetar
To be in the presence of curls of smoke,
the smell of whiskey,
and low rumbles of talk
I don't necessarily want to talk
Just to feel like I'm not alone
A sense of belonging and a buzz
Is that so wrong from time to time?

The genius, the madman
Screaming and clawing at the edges of the mind
Pushing through the drone-like psyche to realness, to rawness
Sacrificing light, dwelling in a hell of their own making
Looking toward the sky from the bottom of a pit
Too far to climb, too tired to try
The ropes they throw are too short or too flimsy
In the darkness, the shards of light that do penetrate
Enter for sporadic moments
Sharp enough to draw forth a burst of life, of rage, of passion
Of anger, of bliss, of God
If someone hears it, they pay no mind, no matter
In the silence, they find their voice
Rough, raspy, barely audible, aching
Caught with cries and burns from toxic smoke and acidic respite
The roar has to be released
They wish it could be strong, clear, to mean something
Reach real people who will listen, understand, resonate, mourn and wail with them
But it falls on deaf tones, and the mask is safe
Although frayed at the edges, makeup melting, eye holes hollow
Smile wearily fading,
Ready to be ripped off the moment they glance away
They can find a mirage of a peaceful mossy bank
Soft and musky and pillowy
Even if it is surrounded by pipes and pills and needles and bottles
They can sit on that island of their own making
And float into space, free for a moment
Untethered to the gravity that pulls them back to their reality of solemnity
And wrath and gravelly talk of meaningless words of air and noise
They need to stop the noise, stop the oncoming barrage of atmospheric pollution
To stop the energetic vampires pulling at their soul
Plucking their heart strings like a worn-out guitar
With nothing left to give to any sort of musical legacy
But in the pit, dark and silent as it is
At least the screams and madness and hopelessness are only in their heads
Able to be occasionally quelled with rhythms and beats on good days
Blood and tears on bad days
At last, when silence is truly all-encompassing
Surrounding mind, body, and soul
They can rest
And the spark can prepare to ignite again