i don’t like what i see in the mirror
because i am nothing more than an ugly mess.

tired eyes
flabby tummy and big thighs
self harm scars
and layers of skins enough to hide my confidence.

i don’t like my reflection.
i don’t like them at all.

i was told that i was perfect the way i am
but then they would tell me
“maybe if you lose weight a little bit more
you could get rid of that chubby cheeks and double chin”.

so i skipped breakfast,
and lunch,
and dinner,
and sometimes i lose control and puke all the way out.
my throat would burn but i felt victorious.

and just like that i spend days and weeks and months and every moments counting calories that will flow down inside this mouth
one hundred
two hundred
not more than three
or else their terrifying gazes will speak to me and say
“ew, disgusting.”

i hate my reflection and i dislike my being
because who would have loved a person like me,
a person with self love the size of a teardrop?

and then they told me again that i don’t have to go on diet because i’ve got the body of Victoria’s Secret’s models

but again,
why would he left me for a girl
well,
she has smaller wrist, bigger chest and she’s always alive
i don’t blame him though
i am really not enough, right?

because anyone can say those three words
and anyone can say you’re perfect
as long as you fit their idea of perfection

i am no goddess and i know my place

but maybe
just maybe
someday,
i will finally be enough.

to feel innocent and pure
to partake in subtle simplicity
in the delicate intimacies around me
my heart wants to bathe
in the truth of purity
unclouded by mad mixtures
of awkwardly complicated life stories
to gaze into pure reflection
to let loose, to feel and be
to reflect eloquent majesty
to reflect eloquent majesty
in the great and sparkling sea

Sometimes I feel like miss-mashed cookie dough
disorganized, inert, intense moody
yet sweet, sustaining and irresistible
sumptuously ****

I guess it doesn’t really matter
a friend recently posted on Facebook
about how everything is so important yet insignificant at the same time
I responded while we are here so much feels important

our embodied emotional, needy longing self
longs to feel real reasons to be here
ways to get through the day
things to connect us to life,

while we feel ourselves through each day
it all feels important...until it all becomes insignificant
then it is a completely new existence all together
this is the kernel of the truth

I am nourished
by the deep insights
in my songs
I feel truth
symmetrically
focus in

somedays I feel in between everything that goes on around me, not not in but not not out...I feel as if I am one of those people who is and who also isn't and who is something inbetween

I guess the bigger question is, does it even make a difference?

A beautiful composition (of any medium) gives one the perfect moment out of time to feel truly and relax into the self of truth

this is another place to begin (again)
do I think I am clever?
who knows?
when my inner alligator snaps
it’s like my facade collapses
I feel myself contained off
from the flow of life around me

there is truth in my reflection
do I dare say the magic words?
some moments are so deep
they are special, and try as we might
we cannot grasp it in our heads
at some point (I feel) we must heed
the song of our truths (of course)

what that involves can be very intense (indeed)
to follow the heed of our innate beats
but back to reality (yet what is reality?)
I often feel as if I exist outside regular time and space
I feel into my life and my reality
I try to feel my place in it
how can my purpose be most greatly served?

how can my evolving dreams take flight?
(it is very comical) all my recurring themes
seem to have a running motif
it feels as if my life has passed in a daze
yet each year has seen me evolve
deeply in many ways
shedding layers, becoming lighter

I have grown my hair out
because long hair in a man
has often excited in me possibility
the deep sensuality of what life can be
it is almost like I desire to grow into me
I feel there is so much more in me
So much still to be set free

I wonder about how the whole year
seemed to mystically slip away
I am not sad or depressed
I am relieved because it makes sense
(in some breezy ephemeral way)
It almost feels as if 2017 was a non-year
the energy felt of coasting (holding breath)

I am feeling into myself (who I am)
I can be so many things
I can be sneaky, and creepy
timid and passively cowardly
the shadows of some of these demons
have been deep strands in my life
here it is for me…

the poems of our shadows can be rich indeed
I will get rid of the flab on my belly
I will have the physique (and presence)
I will be such as there will be no question
no hesitation that I am beautiful
I will be the one people want to love
I will be the one who connects easy

I sit at the edge of my comfort zone
I will be the one whose art is praised
my inspiration is closing in
my discernment increases as life creeps in
it is unnerving as I peer out to the world
from my perch on the window seat
it makes the moment totally real