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 Sep 2017
r
I do not know whose eyes perceive
my finite movement toward light.

Each letting go, a small cry,
each forward move my life's
migratory assurance of what
none of us can ever know.

The genetic certainty of cells
propels the forebrain
with its stumbling feet,
while a heartache of hope
wins each moment even
as it is lost to the next.

And we must accept
the impermanent flow
that is like air, necessary
and sacred; tears are not
the only salt of sorrow.
 Sep 2017
r
To live a life in perspective
I’m told you need to define a horizon
line eye level to the viewer.

From my hill of years the view is fluid
as in watery, but also as in unpredictable.

On the sea’s face a wall of fog moves in
and out like histories remembered
and forgotten.

Sometimes silver striates the sea
with such a glitter of insight
I am bedazzled and cannot look.

Sometimes fogbank and ocean merge
with such blue-gray unity it seems
the horizon rises so that I stand on
the shore, dwarfed by a surf of knowledge
that pounds at my ignorance.

Sometimes the sea becomes invisible,
the white air a questioning emptiness,
a finger-touch of damp against the cheek.
 Sep 2017
Rebel Heart
Standing in a sea of people
As a lone island
Floating around
In the endless nothingness
Drifting away and drowning
Falling apart
And piecing yourself back together
Over and over
And over again
Every single second of the day
Wishing for it to all stop
Helplessly knowing
Nobody will ever hear
Your silent cries
...
Noone could ever save you
Because how could they
Ever save you
From yourself
...
It's hearing yourself talk
And move
And smile
Maybe even laugh
But knowing
It's all an act
With noone to yell "cut"
At the end of the scene..
Because your whole life
Has become a giant play,
Where there could be
A thousand people
And a thousand lights,
There could be a thousand claps
And a thousand great nights
Still all the while
You'd be a thousand times lonely
Drowning in the lights
Drowning in the laughter
Drowning in yourself
All because
You've become too good
At acting
Like you could swim
...
Depression is killing yourself
Slowly
Every day
Every minute
Every single second,
From the inside out
Because you don't know
Who you are anymore
Except for an empty body
Defining disappointment
And a burden
And a void of fake
All wrapped in one.
...
Depression is Loneliness
Depression is Acting
Depression is Drowning
But most of all,
Depression is Me.
Excerpts from a journal entry a while back. I forgot I even wrote this as I hate going back and rereading my own material but I found it and it described how things have been lately. It hasn't been edited but some parts have been edited out... feel free to leave your thoughts.
Life has its valleys but it has its peaks too even if you can't see it, so keep holding on. And if you ever need someone to talk to I'll always be here to throw you a lifeline...

(Front page 9/16/17)
 Sep 2017
Jellyfish
You make me feel happy,
you fill me with hope.
You've changed my life
in ways you'll never know.

But I want to know...
how do I make you feel?
Do I make you feel special?
Do I make you feel real?

I want to know,
if I make you smile wide.
If you long to reach for my hand
when you can see the tides.
 Sep 2017
Jellyfish
I'm more fragile than you think.
Like a chalkboard, I've begun to screech
because I can't take anymore chalk on me.
I may have a cold and smooth surface
but you see me as ugly until you start erasing
all the cramped up information that surrounds me.
 Sep 2017
Jellyfish
I got close to sleeping,
but stress has decided
on having a sleepover,
(again.)
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