If you stepped into my soul right now
I'm afraid you would find
A snap underneath your feet
From the thin branches
That have fallen in defeat.

You'd walk through a forest of leafless trees,
And a chilling kiss upon your neck
From a too cold breeze.

No birds or life, not a single sound and the colorless leaves have made a blanket on the ground,
Grey clouds following overhead.

If you walked through me right now
You'd see how everything is dry
And dead.

So many dead inside.
Scraping up the left over remnants of their hearts.
Like melted wax that dripped down their rib cage.
We scratch off what has dried onto our bones
Desperate to try to make another candle heart to burn.

I'm walkin' on a tightrope,
Holding precious glass,
And I've never really learned
Quite how to balance.

But if by chance
I tip on stance
With this perfect glass,
Slip through my hands,
I hope I fall too
And get cut on you.
So I have scars to prove,
That I never deserved,
To carry you.

You're a vulture.
Picking at weakened dead meat
To the point where
No one can just be.

You'll scavenge for every true part of me
Until all that is left
Is the skeleton underneath.

You prefer walking dead corpses
Of your own making
Instead of just letting others
Be comfortable enough
To be themselves.

I have read articles stating that we are light beings from somewhere beyond this plain.
I have been told my whole life that I am made in God's image.
I have read that maybe we have multiple lives we have yet to live and have already lived.
I have also been told we came from apes and tadpoles
Or that we were created by a gigantic explosion in space.
Some even say we came from nothing and will return to nothing.

All I know to be true is that I hope that no matter how I was created
No matter how I came to be,
That I hope that it was worth making me.

Please tell me that this isn't all the life I get because this just is not enough for my soul to feel fed.
Let me age with grace and good God or Goddess,
take me somewhere I can finally be felt on a level that this mortality limits.
I need a love and a passion deeper than this soul can already feel.
I need to be home and I might not have a single memory of where my spirit was born
but I sure as hell know it will never be Earth.

I tend to paint my own reality.

Splash over my eyes in colorful paint

And I must see things differently.


If I saw it how it was or is

Then I wouldn't find myself

Being so wrong all the time.


I tend to find myself in my own fantasy.

I wish it wasn't this way

I'm crushed time and again

But it always stays the same.

Paint covered eyes
Dreams in my head
I've got no sense of reality
And I won't til I'm dead.

My heart won't stop
Creating a fake world
Not til the paint is gone
To the very last drop.

It is weird to love someone

So elusive.

I was drawn into the mystery,

To find it's only there

To hide the lies.

Do you ever have feelings that live inside you
So foreign
To any human language
That it feels as though you will never begin to be able to describe them?

I'm ready for my same heart.

Where is the sweetest soul in the universe?

The kindest.
The most gentle.

I will find you if you find me.
I will see you if you see me.

I want to look in the mirror and see you in myself.

There's a pull
So strong it's almost a push

And no..
I don't know where to
But I feel it in the air.

It's almost like I can feel wisps of hair
Tickle my face with the breeze.
A smell lightly floats on wind
And yet I've never smelled it.

Who are you?
And why do I need to touch you?

Grasp softly, handfuls of hair and let my wrists rest gently on your neck as I get closer to your lips.

As I
Stare
And want.

As I close my eyes and lean in
And all I'm holding disappears
Blowing away in the wind

Because you either are a past live's memory
Or you are a fuzzy,
Familiar,
Psychic dream.

When the world has exhausted me from continuously unresolved misunderstandings,
I retreat back to the inner workings of my mind and soul.

Trying to accept that even though I wish to settle inside of strangers
That I am just not a being to be comprehended.

I must be just a ghost.
Barely visible,
A sound in the background,
A closing door,
A whisper in the room.

Making you wonder if you really heard something or was it just your imagination?

I must be a superstition.

I continue to pass through them, trying to reach a soul,
but I am not even on the same plain of existence as you.

Somehow, the pleas in my heart that begged for simple mercy
Reached flight through the universe
Like a paper airplane that flew directly into your heart
Across the Galaxy.
Bouncing off stars and whipping past meteors.

I could smile on the outside
Even though full well knowing that
Inside,
The tree of life was dying.
Leaves falling and decaying.

No one could water me.
No one could shine on me enough.

I kept dying anyway.
Thinking maybe, that I was just meant for this fate.

Yet, when I thought it was just about too late and I almost reached a point where I could've never been saved,
Then came the rain.

He came with thunder and lightening
But he still came with water too.
He poured life on the wasteland of what I had became.

So calm the pitter patter.

Sprouts have broke through and you can see the green again across the land begin and my tree is holding on, the heart that I could never nurture alone.

After his healing tears had soaked the soil, clouds began to part and he was also Sun. He was also warmth and fire and life giving in more ways than one.

The tree roots grew deep within the Earth finally strong enough to stand. Strong enough to give back and strong enough to have the branches reach out to him.

Leaves glistening now,
She reached.
Hoping to the unseen forces,
That if she could continue that she could show him how much he's changed.
If she grew, all encompassing,
Strong and unmoving,
That it'd be enough to show him the
Gratitude if only through her beauty.

Here's to waiting on your life giving rain.
My weather God.

I may love the silence,
The night sky,
The lights on the horizon of those still awake,
But one thing I do not enjoy about being a night owl
Is that most times there is no one else to enjoy it with
Other than the moon.

As you claim your power,
As you begin to love you,
As you free yourself from the burdens you so unconsciously placed upon your shoulders,

You'd be amazed the amount of those
Who so dearly "loved" you
Begin to shout
"Selfish!"

Oh and of course they will,
Because they know that definition well, don't they?

They know nothing of the word selfless
Because they have never
Been it.

And when I can see you in your highest light,

I would call you My Grace,

For how well you have demonstrated it, again and again.

I drop the keys on the counter
and I am ready to tell you everything there ever was about me.

Things that flit through my mind so fast I only remember them
When my mind has nothing better to do
and still they are gone in an instant.

I can feel the muscles release in my body and as I lay here
With my mind numb from all the previous encounters I've had and I still only have one wish.

A wish I have desired ever since I was young and I think I will continue to do so when my bones are so old they are about to break
and that would be that I still wish there was a way to communicate a feeling through a feeling, without speaking a single word.

There are just some feelings you can't describe by words and some ways my brain can't form the sentences to tell you what I want to say.

Just wish you could feel this,
The exact way I feel it.

I am stuck in the constant routine of societal norms
And I can see the windows that surround me on my four walled cage;
Out there past the trees reside mountains green.

Here I am inside
Counting down every second of every minute staring at an open freedom
Just right outside
But I sit in my office chair
Listening to the repeating song
Of a phone's ring.

My heart goes out there
Flying on the breeze
But my mind and physical body remain in a money making schedule
Covered in invisible chains.
Starving.

They don't see it in my tired eyes
But my lungs are suffocating
From the repeat
Every week
And I'm convinced the only thing that could give me air
Is the oxygen outside of this building
And a sip of freedom.

Time  moves so fast that I fear sun up
Will glisten across my wrinkles
And whitened hair
As soon as tomorrow.

Did I ever have enough life to live the way I wanted?

I sure hope I do
Because it seems I'll be turned to dust by
Sundown.

I never needed someone who would fly off the handle with me
Inflated by dreams
And soaring on fantasies
No.

I needed an anchor.
Solidity
Concrete and a strong tie on my idealism.

So be the man flying the kite
Steering me in the way I need to go.

While she enjoys the sky
You enjoy her graceful flight.

I have been shunned
For no longer letting myths
Slip off my tongue
And it makes me angry
Everytime they're proved wrong.

I try to keep my mouth shut.
Focus on biting my lip
And ignore the trickled blood.

When you feel a fire burn inside you,
Getting told your after death fate
For not following rules
Might just be something I'd be used to.

Why would burning to the very end
Be so bad
When heat is always rolling off my skin?

Sometimes I'd rather let it all out
But what's the point when I know
You'll never listen?

I'm just so frustrated
That I will never be able to show you
How I see or feel.
But when you check my forehead you'll feel
There's a fire inside,
And I hope that in the end,
You were never right.

Be alive.

Maybe that means something different to every single person
But for me it is laying under the night sky, closing my eyes,
And feeling the universe breathe into me.

Almost wanting to be calloused over
Except not with skin.
Cage me in.

Trap the rawness that I have.
Gloss over all that is inside.

I will peel it off
In time, but
For now,
Cage me in.

Why couldn't I have been born with bare feet deep in dirt and grass?
Or with awesome dreaded hair that I can leave a ratted mess?
Face paint and bones for gauges.
I want to climb trees like business men fly through their floors on an elevator
And look over the top of the leaves
Like we look out our windows.
I'd like to eat food that hasn't been sprayed with chemicals and maybe find it myself.
Make my own pots and play in the mud.
I want wind and sun on my face with my spirit running wild.
Why can't I survive?
Instead of living and feeling like
Something's died inside?
A place without war and people always hating on another.
Live amongst animals
And run through the forest
With my companion right behind.
Why can't I be so deep in nature
As deep as we have our noses buried in our phones?

I want to breathe in the grass and the wet leaves that decorate the floor and sip from streams.

Why couldn't I have been born with a different type of free?

I feel like a little kid trying to catch a rolling ball but my toes keep tapping against it every time I get close at all.

Instead I'm tripping and stumbling after my own heart.
Scraped knees and loose laces.
Ignoring all the laughing faces.

Somewhere along my way,
A boy looked up and noticed
All the disarray.
He thought it was cute
So he comes my way.

My heart came to a stop
Hugged up against the side of his shoe.
He picked it up, smiled, and said,
"I think this belongs to you."

"Generally, people aren't good or pure hearted," he said.

And everytime I hear those words fall out of someone's mouth I can feel the sudden twitch in my heart strings.

The twinge of twisted up emotions residing in each solid beat in my chest,

Denying every ******* letter in that one sentence.

I can't, I won't,
I refuse to feel that way. . .

I don't know how to stop loving humanity.

If your heart
                      has strings attached
                                                        ­  to the stars,
                                 The night sky your puppeteer;


                                                 Then find me.


        Because I need more people connected to a belief in magic.
                                   Who's hearts live elsewhere
            And minds wild enough to fly off into space with me.

What a pesky pesky itch inspiration is,
Especially when you have no way of scratching it.

I wonder if anyone else inhales the smoke, dipped in the smell of burnt ashes and pollution.
Breathing it in and holding it
Almost hoping I am just taking another notch into my chopping block.
It doesn't get rid of the search for answers though does it?

I will continue to drink to burn the questions out of my throat,
I will inhale smoke and hope that some how, when it clears,
That I'll feel like my life has escaped this muggy fog that lingers in my head.

I won't have to continuously keep my tired eyes open on the stars,
I won't contemplate what's beyond the clouds and the sky.

I just want my mind to stop running.
Stop my heart from fearing what's next.
I just want some freedom from all this
For as long as I need that to be.