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 Apr 2019 derailed-trains
always dreamed
of leaving one day
by walking my fingers
left and right and forth
as if the nails were soles
and tips were heels

at the coming of age
always thought
of leaving one day
with nails as tracks
so no one would follow
that not even myself
would want to come back
since between you and me
there is not a thing
worth keeping
 Apr 2019 derailed-trains
Mighty palette
in the sky.
Feast of pastel colours
of sundown.

Nestbound birds
sang up a cry.
Alone I sat,
grass-crested mound.

Inhale a breath,
exhale a sigh...
Pocket of bliss,
peace on earthly ground.

Suddenly, I understand it all.
Yet the world is a mystery and I am lost in it.

Ages are a time and emotion.
13 is mid afternoon. Lagging and energetic.
15 is the morning sun. Rising groggy and regretful.

17? 17 is the night.
17 is the span between 11-1.
When you aren't wild yet but things are certainly different.
17 is the city lights and no seatbelt.
17 is the teenage cliché,
shadowed by the unknown of what is to come.

17 is crying in the hallways and stargazing on the lawn.
17 is having a bottle of ***** under the bed,
but being too scared to drink it.
17 is Ribs and loneliness,
As you watch the night slip away and the knowledge hits you that you now have to wait for morning.

17 is the unknown.
17 is taking risks.
Not because you are brave,
but because you don't have anything left to give.
17 is to be lost,
but to be okay with that.

17 is slowly coming down from the high of growing up,
Reflecting on all you have lived,
As you patiently wait for your life to begin.
written 4/19/18
 Dec 2018 derailed-trains
 Dec 2018 derailed-trains
We must look at
the paths we traverse.

For they meander...

Some would loop.
Some would cross.
Some puncture boundaries.
Some stay safe.

look at the paths
we choose to travel.
Because some may take some.
Others may take it all.
 Nov 2018 derailed-trains
 Nov 2018 derailed-trains
Read between the lines.

You’d find that the words
left unwritten
would scream
the loudest.
 Oct 2018 derailed-trains
some days the bravest thing
that you can do is breathe
there will be days
that you will not feel like yourself
there will be days
that the demons inside you will prevail

some days the bravest thing
that you can do is get out of bed,
eat something, cry your eyes out,
scream at the top of your lungs,
bleed, bleed for you are alive
and struggling to be alive

some days the bravest thing
that you can do is live
 Oct 2018 derailed-trains
I will love you with no regards as to who you've loved before me. No matter who has tasted your oh so precious lips before they met mine.

I will love you no matter who hates you or who loves you, or who loves hating you. I will love you no matter who you love or who you hate, or who you hate loving.

I will love you no matter what a certain group of people say about us, even if this certain group of people are your friends, my friends, or our parents.

I will love you as a novel loves being read and as the reader loves reading a certain quote that he found on the internet that convinced him to buy the novel and how that certain quote loves being revised online as to fool someone's followers on Twitter that it was his own.

I will love you no matter how many typos you have when drunk texting me, or drunk texting someone else who, I hope to God, isn't your ex.

I will love you no matter what songs you sing in the shower, no matter how wrong the lyrics are or if you're out of tune, or even if you don't take showers at all.

I will love you as a graphic artist loves drawing his favorite stroke, even if his professor says it's not the right way it should be done.

I will love you as a certain DJ loves playing his favorite remix, even if the crowd hates The 1975 remixes because they're too biased to appreciate it.

I will love you no matter what bands break up next year and no matter what bands get back together and pull out another Fall Out Boy.

I will love you even if the clowns stop laughing at their own jokes, even if the priests start questioning their own homily sermons, or even when the masses stop laughing at the priest's jokes at homily.

I will love you even if you stop correcting my works even when you grow tired of my mistakes, not only my grammatical ones but the ones I make literally.

I will love you no matter what color your hair is or if you wear contacts to sleep or not. I will love you even if you stop tracing my lips as I fall asleep beside you, even if you steal the blankets at the coldest of nights.

I will love you even if you regret meeting me and that you allowed me to woo you with my saccharine tongue.

That is how I will love you, so please just don't regret loving me.
 Oct 2018 derailed-trains
 Oct 2018 derailed-trains
you are eighteen and struggling to know who you really are.
the friends that you keep close make you feel so worthless
but at least you aren't lonely,
or at least that's what you tell yourself.

you think about how things were so different a year ago
and how things quickly fell apart.
two dimensional friends come and go
you don't even have the strength to care anymore.

so you write down all the things real enough to say
but not enough courage to say it.
that's the thing about art, it's still beautiful
even though it may be broken and misunderstood.
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