pink hearts and red flowers are easily handled
movie tickets and sun exposure
in the name of seeing one another
for a little bit longer

dinner dates and meeting my mother
holding each other for hour upon hour
under the impression that things
might be okay

and my ribcage is disappearing
underneath layers and layers of good intention
and i can feel the masks withering and cracking
and i am scared

She spies the ants in bewilderment
A linear and meandering path
Undulating like a wave on a flat ocean
They are deliberate and sure

The ant spies the girl with indifference
Her path is unknown and random
Undulating in and out of reality
Her scars are deliberate and self-inflicted

The woman spies the man
His path is like the girl and the ant
Undulating like a *** of boiling water
The wounds he exacts are deep and copious

In bower bright,
Young heart alight
In love and pain.
Drops of blood like rain
Fall perpetually from my heart
As I watch it break and fall apart.

An oasis in a parched terrain
A rhyme in a dull refrain
In a storm a place to hide
A ******* in a riptide.

Going down, a parachute
Monday morning, short commute.
Summer day a scarf of silk
Warm cookies, a glass of milk.

Chocolate sundae the cherry on top,
Dangerous street a friendly cop.
A sturdy rope down the abyss
Tucked in bed a goodnight kiss.

I am human
I am selfish
and sometimes selfless
I am broken
and sometimes whole
I am unintellectual
and sometimes full of knowledge
I am capable
and sometimes insecure

I am destructive
and sometimes constructive
I am emotionless
and sometimes too emotional
I am happy
and sometimes far too upset
I make sense
and sometimes I'm just contradictory

But there's one thing I had in mind
throughout the construction of this poem.

*I am who I am,
And nothing you say or do,
Will make me feel otherwise.

I am obsessed with my own mortality
or maybe the fact that I believe I am immortal
how could I die?
how could any thought of mine be final?
it can't just end
I wake up everyday
eyes peeled wide
and comfortably rise from where I lay

sure others pass
but they are not me
they don't walk in my shoes
they don't see what I see
they aren't special
and I am because well...
because I believe I am
I just know I can tell

but maybe there's truth to what they say
the groundwork which they lay
treasure life every second
because it could end any day
it's sobering
to think you're nothing but a ticking timer
that someday it will eventually end
that whatever you have won't last forever

Insecurity* is my *Enemy
Lonesome is my Friend
Emptiness is my Safe Haven


*© Pax

They say money is time
but technically time does not exist
so we need to make money
because time is what we make it

but money is power too
because to make money takes time
which we do not like to spend
so people who crave it quick turn to crime

but money is freedom
giving us time to do with what we wish
the power of choice
the ability to switch

but money is material you say?
simply paper?
real life is spiritual ay?
well see if a smile pays the bills

regardless of what you think
accept that money is a choice
and realize no one listens
to the man without a voice

So deface it if you will
belittle it if you want
but money is microphone
although I am no savant

I know money is money
and not much else
so treat it as such
and save yourself