some people already have a view, a light over the horizon.
their feet are dipped into an ocean that holds many of their secrets,
but they become bored with the mundane & seek more meaning to their existence.
perhaps someone else's ocean will taste differently.
perhaps they'll finally learn how to swim.
willing hearts & open hands accept these travelers because maybe they're an adventurer just like me.
but really they're just passing through.
they only want to experience new flavors, to swim in unknown seas.
they need to escape but they'll never leave.
cowards perhaps, to temporarily give up the comfort of the river and sink into the oceans' depths.
but the ocean is not quiet & neither is the wind.
she will shred your sails & sink your ship.
she will not forget how you stirred her waves into a tsunami and left her there to drown.
when the night becomes indifferent, seek change first within yourself.
you will never find light in another if you do not love your own hands.
do not take arms you know you will eventually let go of.
do not awaken hearts you cannot call your home.

and so we go on. and the ocean waits alone, for the next light on the horizon.

I was asked
         
                 why don't you
                   write something
                                 positive?
postive,
positive?

maybe it's like
school,
it's hard to weave
interests into subjects
coincident not
of delight

a page is an unworn
white t-shirt
that i seem to stain
unrecognizable
when my pen
wipes it's fingers

and theres nothing
more to clean my
hands with

so i guess
why i don't write
positives a majority
of the time
is because when it rains
the ground doesn't
just decide to stay dry.

If I can touch the heart and soul
of just one questing mind;
respond unto impassioned call
of questions unrefined,

then shall my feeble efforts be
rewarded quite enough,
and force my inner doubt to flee
without fear of rebuff.

If I have brought the regiment
of inner doubt or fear,
to rage or hate or merriment
by words that I hold dear

Then I may finally reveal
what held me in distress
and I may come at last to feel
an undeserved bliss.

When my doctor diagnosed me as a schizophrenic,
My mother broke into tears, like it was worse thing anyone
Could be, I wanted to tell her to stop, it was starting to feel
Too unreal, I have been living in this mind for so long,
That I have turned against this world, which
Looks at me like I’m a burden to carry, I talk to air
Sometimes, it’s not insanity, not everything you can’t see is
Insanity, I sometimes see my grandmother, and I tell her
I miss her that I’m sorry I wasn’t there when she counted
Her last breath, you might feel it to be weird, but it’s not worse
Than this guilt gnawing at me, my mind is a canvas painted
By thousands of painters, and the pictures here don’t make sense,
But art doesn’t need to make sense.
I feel like a graveyard sometimes, haunted by the souls
That will never leave me, I feel like a morgue sometimes,
Walking around with my own corpse, that bleeds sometimes,
I am not abnormal or special or weird,
I see constellation in people, and I see a ray in you
When you smile, my hand stutters objecting to human
Touch, and I don’t call out for hugs, but this body could use some
Warmth, my imagination doesn’t run ahead, it goes round
And round,
Living in this body, is like inhabiting with a foe,
Which slowly takes over you, and you have no shield,
These meds help you sleep dreamless at night, but
They won’t protect you, nothing will be here to
Clutch on when demons that resides in you arrive,
So all you do is crawl on your bed, trying to take
As less space as possible, not letting the fear
Cover every part of you, you think you’re still here,
But you’re not, and thats exactly how it feels like
Living in a schizophrenic mind.

I stood around the corner for so long
always a little detached from myself
waiting for the stars to align
and a number of other nonessentials
it took a minor miracle to shift me
to move into forward gear
realise my dreams as I travelled onward
gone around the corner, finally