With my head in the clouds
I promised myself no more
All the dreams that once embraced me
Were lost in this greyscale haze
Of memories of the dark days
Diminished by the light
Like a reel of film
Exposed and muted
And I–
Might let myself fall in this

              I'm not so good at writing happy thoughts
              The unfamiliarity paints a stranger in my mind
              That feels so strangely like home

              But you hold out your hand to me
              And I think I can see it–
              The kaleidoscope of colors
              That burns from within

                            It's chaos, confusion and carelessly crude
                            The fear and excitement's a belligerent blue
                            Blood red wreaks havoc on knotted up seams
                            To break through the barriers I've built up for me

                            It heals all the wounds with a lilac calm
                            It assembles a mural on ivory walls
                            It murmurs a secret in marigold scrawl
                            Of the colors you discover inside of the fall

                                          You smile and I melt in a rose-gold twist
                                          And I think I–
                                                        Might let myself fall in this

Let's play little word games
If honesty's so obscene
You can pierce a soul with icy prose
And still claim your hands are clean

Well I've created monsters
More harsh than your deceit
Forget the cold, my pen will bring
Words burning at your feet

So let's play little word games
I know that you know how
I've seen the disasters spilt
From tremors in your mouth

If it's "only words", then fine,
Let's smoke each other out
You say that you want sparks,
I'll be the fire in your house

Observing from space
All they see is failed intelligence driven by deluded hierarchy

Brave
written January 20th, 2021

What is it like
to see the world
through your eyes?
to actually
live
in the world
the way you do?

I ask you, green beret and swat,
about your experience of fear,
and we are so different
you don't even understand my question.
"It's not brave to jump out of planes
if you aren't afraid of it," you say.

(A small voice inside me asks
does that make me brave?
Because I am afraid all the time,
or is it only what you accomplish
in spite of being afraid
that counts as bravery?)

You face the world head on
walk through heaven and hell,
air and water part for you
and you know that they will.

What is it like
to own the world like that,
to see the world
and not be afraid?