Memories      

Memories, I have a few. I like it that way because it’s better not to think, or to feel, and most definitely not to imagine. I don’t think it was planned, and I pray it was never intended.
I prefer to think it was just bad timing,circumstances, and a twisted, mixed up, wrongly fused connection. Which burned out.

I knew it wouldn’t last, deep within my soul. I had my doubts all along. Yet, I ignored them and buried them, hoping so badly that our wires would tangle and knot, become one,and withstand the heat. Though, it was not meant to be.

You may have loved me in the beginning;but you didn’t stay to see the tears so **** hot they left scars down my cheeks. I remember the deafening sound your absence left.
The chaos, the clutter, and the betrayal. Those were the wounds left from the memories of days gone by.

You rejected me so I rejected myself. You were the drug that filled my veins,the obsession that filled voids. Spaces created from your absence left me shattered and discarded for all to view. I frantically grasped at shards, bleeding and in pain, but I held on. I knew that when I let you go I would sink into myself.

I remained that way, submerged until I couldn’t breathe,and then I had to. I broke open and the pain of the light scorched my bruised and aching soul. I tried to stich myself together, but, the loose threads faltered. I erupted, and exploded. The erosion left me weakened and raw.

I lay in the sun, and I allowed the wind and the storms to pass. I weathered all they gave.
After the storms, I opened my eyes. I found that your love had ruined us, but it hadn’t ruined me. I discovered that I was glistening, glittering, and glowing.

My insides, though burnt and fractured from the impact of you crushing my spirit, had crystallized.
You took away your love but what you’ll never find out is, you left behind a diamond.

Randy McPeek

One day, we'll  finally
fall in love with what we have been,
with who we have been.
One day we'll be finally
see beyond our flaws,
And see what we have not seen.
One day we'll say those three words,
and we'll finally mean it;
One day we'll be found, and we'll be forever lost in the idea of it.

Just one, special day apart from today,
we'll walk the same road once again
Our feets sore from a long walk,
our maps leads to one another.

It may not be today,
or in the depths of tonight
it may be not the next day after,
Or the years after that.
Or even after this lifetime that we had.
It just have to be one day.
And I'll hold on to that day.
That one day, when we don't have to wish for that one day.
And things will happen.
And you and I, will happen.

One day.

There was a tale of a young boy
Who flew the skies, lost and alone,
Seeking a place, a place called home.

Until the ends of the earth, he sought
The only dream he ever dreamed of.

He flew and flew, and so did time.
And as the years withered by,
A place...
A place called home.
Not once did he ever find.

But then, he fell and met the earth.
And for the first time since his birth,
He smiled with pure glee.

For now, under the ground,
He was truly free.

it is my birthday.
but the world has long disowned me.
honestly--I ask--why do I bother?
as there must be something there for me--out in the viscera.
for I, am still here.

it is my birthday.
but the public has long shunned me.
faces thick as bedrock and eyes as dull as mint wrappers.
and they use sound to blind them.

it is my birthday.
and no one seems to help.
for it is not always happy to know,
you're one day closer into the arms of the cease-r.

it is my birthday.
and words rule no meaning.
for no one listens to me.
and no one hears what I'm hearing.

it is my birthday.
and my marrow weakens as I breath.
but bones sleep with welded lips 'neath the coat of earth.
and--with shame--I shall, too, be nothing but empty research.

it is my birthday.
and I force myself to nature.
O sand, is it true they pick you up and throw you in the wind?
O sea, is it true you get stuck in the mouths and stomachs of the young?
O hair, is it true you scream when the air beats you?
but I don't hear--and I know many.

it is my birthday.
and I breath false air.
is it true the ones that speak ill are on their death bed?
is it wrong I wish for them to speed up time?
is it wrong I point the reaper in their direction?
so I needn't worry of their illness spreading to mine.

it is my birthday.
and we are all gathered for tea.
the masochists sit by the sadists; that's the rule,
so the sadist may draw that ball-point pen deep along their slate skin--and whisper the names of forgotten authors,
so they may both moan with delicious harmony together--for two presents in one.

it is my birthday.
and the masochists ask me to join.
they write each other's eulogies
and revise--revise--'til there are none.

it is my birthday.
for now you know not,
of what I wish, but what I need,
a master.

for I am not one.

it is my birthday.
and not all wishes deem true,
for it seems no one cares of my words--my work--my blood--my tears--
a hymn to whomever it may concern--have you no mercy?

it is my birthday.
and I have not found them.
I have not found the right.
for only airless voices with no mouths, eyes that wish for many more, and souls that have lost time have found me.

and I am one of them.

and 'neath my heart,

I always will be.

for it is my birthday,

and wishes don't come true.

We are drowning ships
crashing planes
falling skies

We are tragedies that never got
written
in ink
but blood

We are disasters they forgot
to record
or observe
or announce
or save
or help

We are train wrecks that needed saving
Instead you covered your eyes
Shielded your children
Dumped the wreckage into landfills
That are eating away at our plant

Ours

This world, it is ours
Yours and mine
It is not a kingdom that is your
birthright to take
to force yourself on
your rules
your mistakes
your judgement
your hearts

We are people
Collapsible
Collapsing
At every turn
every word
every day
every breath

We are still people
still alive
still able
still fighting
breathing
belonging to a world that has never accepted us
made space for us
let us belong

But we are belonging