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I live each day with one breath that I give to a higher power.
I never know of their identity, I know they are there.
Regardless of name or history, they remain a presence in my life.
As my next breaths come, I reach solitude.
A guitar at my side and an ink pen in my right hand is my notorious duo.
I scribble in messy cursive, letters to people they will never receive,
words that only I understand.
I question myself and everything around me,
and my eyes meet my reflection at least 5 times a day.

I am caught in my brain and I hope for less pills to swallow.
Sometimes smoke gets in my eyes.
I feel full, yet empty, and both in a good way.
I hope for love in any sense, not just romantic.
My past used to define me, and as of now, I let go.
There isn't much about me, only what I make of me.
April is Poetry Month, and I am partaking in the "Poem a Day" challenge. April 2nd is "About Me"
It's fool's day, and I'm thinking of the first heartbeat
my body has shuddered.
Skin smoothed from an embryo and into the form of a human being;
I was ushered into this world 12 and 8 years late
to two parents who rose their white flags by the time I was 10
and two siblings who had endured their fair share of the family fortune: traumatizing memories and the gene pool of mental illness.

I used to think it was a farse; this "life" thing.
I believed I was sent here by mistake,
as my mom often told me I was the "surprise" to her.
I came home on Father's Day and 17 years later, my father disappeared.
But I'll remember how he and my mom formulated the lives of 3 human beings, now on completely separate paths,
and how beautiful life became on our own accord.

We're often taught that blood is thicker than water,
and that your family are your first role models.
They teach you about the world before you get the chance to be taught by the world itself.
So what they're saying must be significant, right?

No matter the pain that has been struck on me
since that heartbeat,
I'll forgive.  It's the only way to make a second.
And as the blood trickles from my flesh,
on my dying bed, I'll reminince about my first breath, as I breathe my last.
April is Poetry Month and I'm doing the "Poem a Day" challenge.
April 1st is "First".
When I'm driving out to Albany
My mind stirs.
"What would it be like,"
he chimes in contemplation,
" to spend a summer with her?"

So instead of Albany,
I'm driving down some bustling main street
of a town neither of us have heard of,
but I don't feel lost because I can feel her shoulder
brushing against mine.
She's poised, staring with glassy eyes out into an unknown town
with a grin painted stretched across her gentle face.
She's giddy now as her right hand meets the warm air outside.

When we finally park, it's some ****** just-of-luck spot
between a sunny corner and some person's rotting pick-up.
The sun, beaming wildly on us, is familiar now.
We're busily glancing about as we stroll down the sidewalks,
passing couples and families and an occasional man out for a smoke.
We enter shops galore and explore their depths of dumb pins, hats, posters, overpriced clothing and knick-knacks.
It's like those boring and cheesy indie movies where they're so conveniently laughing at the same thing and trying on hats regardless of where those hats may have been.
We're holding hands now, neither of us really knew when that happened, exactly, but it did, and no one complained.

Interlocked hands swaying back and forth, she leans her head against my shoulder and I feel warm inside.
I spot a small diner with chairs and tables positioned outside, and automatically knew we had to check it out.
After ordering, we sit there, waiting, and she goes on about this story of this one time her and her friends did this crazy thing back home, and I'm sitting there, smiling like a ******* ******, as I watch her gesture with excitement on the pressing details of the most intriguing events she's been on.
I'm just observing her, how the sun casts a golden halo around her, it's like I'm somewhere completely separate, just her and I.
Her laugh breaks me out of this trance, as I realize the waiter's standing right there waiting for me to move my **** arms so he can put my plate down. ****.

So we eat, and after paying, I check our time,and it's about 1:30. I stand up, stretch my arms, and wrap one around her. We walk around a bit, then gather ourselves to head to the car. As we hop in, I feel this urge of impulsivity bubble up inside of me like a spring.
"We're going to the beach, *******!" I declare without another word, and we're off. I let her play whatever song she wants, because anything sounds sweet when there's the tiny, slightly self conscious hum of her trying to keep along but not too loud, musing in the background.

We catch onto a song both of us know far too well, and again, it's like a **** ****** teenage indie movie. We're singing along with the windows down and the warm summer breeze breathing through the car. Everything around us is green with pure life, and the world feels as if everything is thriving and coexisting in harmony.

I don't feel as if I want to be anywhere else, even if sand gets stuck in my ******* shoes and I can't believe I have this killer sunburn.
I feel alive, and with her. It's so stupid and it's all been said before.

It's all but a dream, and I wake up in Albany.
So I'm really dumb and I get too in depth about things on my bucket list... rip
I was told there's a difference
between embarrassment and shame,
and that if embarrassment let exist
without treatment, without care;
it soon swells into a pestering hornet's nest.
humming violently in the back of your head.
It feeds off of instinctual fear
and it sets your skin aflame.

I feel as if I'm being melted alive
and there's no way out.
I can't even find the escape route
to take a moment and see outside of this issue.
The fear of rejection overloads my system
and all at once, memories of childhood rejection
flood like a tidal wave,
wracking my core.

I'll play it off as a joke,
I'll get the option back, maybe,
But I fear everyone will look at me differently.
It's true that when I'm pushing 30,
I won't cast a second glance back at this very moment.
But everyone tells me to focus on there "here-and-now",
and I have no choice but to wallow in the existential dread
and overwhelming fear
of everyone being mad at me, being disgusted by me.
I want out.
The kids frolicked in the steam of hot summer streets
Rainbows appeared in the western sky
Rain cooled Main Street , a Tennessee breeze
removed raw heat , rushing downspouts and gutters
before welcome eyes
Tree frogs sang songs of dusk
'Stormwater' fell from oaks in perfect time
Crickets began to chime
Sailing stick boats by moonlight
A cardinal burst into song in the young night
A young dove sang a hopeful tune
Cicadas bid praise for unpredictable June ....
Copyright Randolph L Wilson * All Rights Reserved
  Jun 2017 Andy Campbell Graham
You took a trip with Lucy,
to leave a world of pain.
She showed you a kaleidoscope of colors, but just left you feeling insane.

And then you danced with Molly, under the flashing lights, but all that did was make you sleep with a different girl that night.

This girl was named Addy, you thought you'd finally found the one. She made you feel so motivated, like you could get anything done. Then she left your heart racing, and made sure you couldn't eat. After 3 days you finally left her, because she'd never let you sleep.

You met a girl so opposite, she went by Mary Jane, with her you felt so at ease, she took away the pain. But your mother didn't like her, and neither did your dad. After awhile you realized that she didn't make you feel any less sad.

So you run back to the other girls,
although they never left.
They aren't too hard to find
when they're always sleeping with your friends.
Just one call and the girls will be back into your bed.
They're hard to get rid of once you let them in your head.
  Jun 2017 Andy Campbell Graham
I saw you staying late at night,
in your small dark room
staring at your ceiling
asking for answers.

That day, I saw you getting anxious
at your office around nine.
'Coz your hot headed Boss yelled at you
because you failed to send invites.

Yet I know you did your best,
staying behind just to finish
the letters, the inputs,
the programs even the script.

The bags in your eyes get bigger every night,
While you cram to send it all.
Your eyes get watery, you become jitty,
But no one knew because you accepted the call.

I saw all your hardworks.
I saw all you pains.
I heard all the belittlings.
I heard all your pleas and cries.

Yet despite all these,
You're still here fighting.
Finishing the fight you've started.

The rope is no longer hanging,
Those blades are now kept.

To the girl who thought of death lately,
I salute you for being brave!
Live life despite how hard it may seem.
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