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My mind is like mud
   slow, sliding down
      a
         H
               I
                     L
                           L

I feel like
      my brain
and all the
      canyons
are being filled
      with

   memories
I
don't
want
Taking my deep breaths
Inhale, exhale, in a square
Pulse slows, patience comes
Square breathing works wonders for me. Better than only taking deep breaths because it gives me a focus to put on my breathing patterns.
Much like the stars
My light from the past
Is only now reaching me
I'm at peace with my past.
Just a glance paints a picture
Images of some other era
Non-existent ideas
That maybe laughed, wept
Danced
Steam rising from slick skin
The starlight illuminating us
Perhaps we found unexplored places
Dined on fabulous food
Lived
Fought
Loved
But.
Here we are
In this circle of broken people
So just a glance
Lets me imagine
Occasionally you write about random people you are in group therapy with, because you still aren't ready to actually deal with your own problems.

I don't really feel this hopeless romanticism anymore, but I started my page with the intention of posting the old with the new as well.
In a new place now
One last chance to start over
Breathe deep, you got this
After living in 4 states in the last 3 years, I can say with a doubt:

A geographic change could not help me run away from my problems, especially because most of them both internal and external were caused by none other than me.

I carried my issues with me like unnecessary carry on bags across every one of those state lines. I wrote this a day into my most recent state, and the only reason my life has been any different was I finally gave into the idea that enough was enough and I needed to change.
i accept the past
i embrace the future
i live today
fully
fearlessly
without judgement or self-doubt
mindful
that i am both
my yesterday and my tomorrow
Vitriol
Spit it out
And keep a more civil tongue in your head
A more round noun in your mouth
Vitriol
a black highway road guides my body as my mind quietly wanders

stepping onto the fragile
and pondering what lies beneath

allowing the shackles of restraint to fall free from my heart
inviting a relentless mercy

I am yours
and
you are mine

allowing the pain of doubt to melt away  

my king
I kneel before

allowing the truth of love to permeate

my staggered faith
ignites
and burns for him

chasing the creator is no monetary venture

weak still I lean on you

blessed to wander under your hand
All the hijacker does is scream
And it is enough.
Blisters burn the brain until
A rancid tinnitus
Washes through my canyons, flooding everything
Total destruction
A later me may find small shells
Evidence that at some point
I lived
I fought
I existed
But for now, I go the way of the dinosaurs
The hijacker is a "character" that makes appearances in several of my poems regarding my panic attacks and anxiety.
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