I must have missed the memo
Lost the note or dropped a call
I don't remember when you said it
I don't remember it at all

You said it was important
I knew that this was true
I just could not quite remember
The bride to be was you

I knew I had to be there
I vaguely knew we booked a room
But, if I didn't know the first part
Then I sure wasn't the groom

I must have missed the memo
Lost the note or dropped a call
I don't remember when you said it
I don't remember it at all

I knew we'd seen the doctor
Can't remember just what for
I didn't know you'd had the baby
Until you both came through the door

I was sure I would remember
The second time the baby came
I even went to down to the doctor
but, could not quite get your name

I must have missed the memo
Lost the note or dropped a call
I don't remember when you said it
I don't remember it at all

Two kids, and I had missed them
Que Sera, what will be will be
But, I sure do not remember
When you popped out number three

As time went by so quickly
I missed birthdays and some games
But, I always knew the children
Had completely different names

I must have missed the memo
Lost the note or dropped a call
I don't remember when you said it
I don't remember it at all

They've grown, the house is empty
There is only you and me
I remember when it bustled
With two kids...oh, sorry ...three

I came home the house was empty
Just the tv and a chair
I knew something must be missing
I didn't know what wasn't there

I know you'll tell me things tomorrow
Things I should have done today
But, I just can't help but wonder
why is all our stuff away?

i was afraid of my wobbling knees.
it's funny how everything gets magnified when you're in front of a crowd. One minute it's
a-okay if you trip, poke yourself in the eye, stumble on your words,
because that's normal
and you can laugh it off,
because there weren't any consequences
but the next minute
the light is blinding you--
                                      you have no one's eyes to reassure you, because you can't make out their faces--
and you're alone,
squirming under the microscope,
caught in the worst trap
if only because it's not customary to cry for help once you're there.

And your job is to reveal yourself, flaws and all,
red face and all
sweaty palms and all
through a melody,
your voice and every single one of your
indescribable, raging, nonsensical fears
(what if I throw up all over the front row? Or what if I knock the stand over, inflicting that poor man with a ****** nose in the process, and THEN throw up all over him??)
the only things slicing the silence.

Do you suppose
From where you sit
That you can see the stars?
Way up there
Up in the black
Above the smog from cars

Do you suppose
From where you sit
That you can see the truth?
Way out there
Out passed what's known
And muddled by your youth

Do you suppose
From where you sit
That you can really see?
See the world?
See yourself?
Or even see me?

Over the last few days
I have constructed a new basic description of myself:
I am the seventeen year old
poet with a white beard and baggy, bruised-looking eyes
who only ever uses his left hand when playing badminton.

I felt a little lost entering 2013,
the same amount of lost I felt leaving 2012.
I just don’t get it, this thing called life.

I thought I was. Getting it.
But it still eludes me.
Maybe just a little disillusioned.

I seek truth.
To fight lies that always seems to threaten my mind.
But there still seems to be two voices.
There are always two voices.
And I hate that I always end up in that awkward middle ground.

Maybe this is everyone's struggle.
Thinking we're getting better,
Till something comes and knocks us down again.
Most of the time though,
I think, that something is me.
There is no one else to blame.

I feel a little disillusioned,
By the sense of purpose I felt.
I was so sure.
So sure that I was meant to do something specific,
something special with my life.
And yet the evidence of my life speaks volumes.

So there's a voice that beckons,
Telling me to push through,
Because there is indeed purpose in all the madness.
My own inner voice.
The voice of dreams and visions,
Of inner convictions and revelations.
Also the voice of those who believe in my potential.
Prophecies,
Words of encouragement.

And then there's the voice
The voice pointing, "Look at your life"
Is this the fruits of a child of God?
You're an ordinary person.
And not a good one at that.

The voice that reminds me of all the times I've tried,
And failed.
The voice that reminds me of prayers I’ve prayed,
Things I’ve hoped for,
And seen no evidence of.
Times where I chose faith,
And nothing happened.

It’s strange really.
This awkward middle ground.

How does one feel so confident,
And yet so insecure.
So wise,
And yet so stupid.
So strong,
And yet so weak.
So hopeful,
And yet so hopeless.
So sure of purpose,
And yet so unsure of the path.

Faith and unbelief do not co-exist.

So what is this?
Why is my mind always been tormented?
I know truth.
And still struggle to discern lies.
Until it’s too late.
Or almost.
The duality makes me tired.

I want no part in evil.
And yet my propensity towards sin just makes me feel bad.
And it’s as if scripture itself torments me.
See, I know God's standard is holiness.
And the plain truth is,
Often, I don’t feel good enough.
Like I just don’t make the cut.

The common Christian answer
Obvious and straightforward
Simply. Its grace.
God's grace and love that covers a multitude of sin.

I don’t think I understand then.
Because I’ve accepted this.
Truly.
And yet.
I feel like somehow if I really understood,
I shouldn’t be in this place.
Struggling.

My faith is being tested.
All the time,
It seems.
And I don’t always feel like I'm passing.

I know God's forgiveness.
But I also know He is a just God.
He doesn’t tolerate sin and disobedience.
I almost feel doomed.
I fear Him most of all.
And everyday I pray for mercy.
But I don’t want to just survive.

I realise that I have allowed the enemy's lies,
to infiltrate my mind.
And only the Word.
Jesus.
Truth.
Can conquer that.

I feel so undeserving.
I feel I have so far to go...
But I also know that I can’t fix myself.

Even though I feel like I'm not sure,
How to move forward,
as in the next step,
I’m walking blindly anyway

Hoping that He'll open my eyes to see.
Really see.

My heart is sore.
Disappointment and sadness I suppose.
But I don’t want to become bitter.
And I’m not.

the Truth,
shall set me free.

I told you after I ate all those wild mushrooms
"I will kick that bowl over...I'm sorry, but I will do it and I don't know why I can't force myself not to."
And the bowl tumbles over, and out spill all your secrets and emotions.
I didn't expect the carpet to soak you up so easy.
You're sinking in like water in skin, an IV drip with ivy grip
I got no reason to fight this, but it's gonna happen.

So I stand here listening to you unravel yourself
And it starts slowly, like your hair falls out
And then your nails begin to peel back
And your skin disintegrates into human ash.
Your muscular system falls off like wraps from a mummy
And then you tumble apart.

So here I am, I told you I would do it,
And I did it. And I didn't want to.
Because now I am picking up all the pieces.
Do you have any idea how long it takes to put a person back together again?

This is a lifetime project.
I have to put it on the backburner.
Otherwise I'll starve to death, because hilariously enough
We live in a place where we must pass the buck,
Like some other things...

Enough. I don't want to last here
I don't want to keep myself in a state of hypocrisy
I haven't had enough time for change
As drastically
As I hoped to have done
I haven't
Had
Fun
In Years
So much sorrow for someone so young.

I feel dumb
Sort of like a dream
Asleep but I can't see
Only hear the random speech
Muffled like I'm in the deep end
Listening up.

I haven't had enough
Yet
But I don't want any more.