I received a lot of praise
For my musical ways
and it caused waves
To crash around my heart-
Their expectations over my art
It ruined my passion
In a "Wonderwall" fashion
Singing over and over again
Into soulless eyes,
Made me feel like a type of prize
It was a lot of work to learn I'm not
I can sing and make music without being bought

Everything is connected,
I feel like a volcano that has been dormant
but want to release all of my tension.
I want to show you my emotions;

So you can see I'm not a doormat,
I just keep my feelings below the surface,
It's resulted in my body doing the same
Which is why I'm in constant pain.

My trauma has created tunnels of magma,
I can't tell where they end or begin
It's frightening and leaves me upset,
There's no one I can share this with.

I hope for one day to lay out my feelings,
Let everything flow;
Like tears, they'll roll out of me
Covering everyone I've allowed to see

Then will come the tricky thing,
to never bottle anything again.
I don't want to reap havoc on them,
I want to stay empty and peaceful

To know where I end and begin,
It would solve something, wouldn't it?
But I feel like a volcano.
Physically and within.

At one time
I would happily run out
and look up in the night skies
To catch a glimpse of the moon

Now, the moon is up there
Bright and beautiful.
But neither do I seek it
Nor do I see it.

I could say that life does that to you
But then, life is what you make it.
So, tomorrow, I will try to make life
Glow like the moon and the stars
Flow like a tinkling river
Blow gently like a summer breeze

But today I think I will let myself feel like late autumn.
Mellow, waiting for winter and snow.

I wish that someday, someone would say that they could bring the stars and the moon for me.
Of course it’s unlikely that such a thing happens.
But once in a way, I wish someone would just say that they could.

Meanwhile let’s count the stars.
And one night, if some stars and the moon go missing in the sky…
I think you’ll know why.

calories
in my bed
tossing and turning
from things deconstructing
in this head

I’m burning
rubber
on the streets
racing from
all my defeats

I’m burning
bridges
shore to shore
to even the score

I’m burning
down the house
I built
Flooded from the flames
I didn’t learn to walk on stilts
Now I’m locked in chains

I'm burning
alive
all  the maggots
eating up my insides
with rage

I’m burning
incense
cinnamon and sage
my friends
in old age

I step into the shower.
If this was a book, the almost-too-hot water would be a metaphor, for the emotional warmth or passion or intimacy I’m missing.
Maybe it is a metaphor. Maybe it’s just cold outside.
Either way, the water sears my skin,
But god, at least I’m feeling something.

When I say
that you are my Sun,
I don’t mean that you are
Luminous,
Brilliant,
Gilded,
Beautiful,
Bold,
Warm,
Or even the center of my universe.
I simply mean that
I cannot look at you
Without hurting