When I was younger my mom had a cape.
I used to believe she was some superhero that came and saved us whenever we needed.
And I can’t tell you how many times she came to my rescue.

Through scraped knees, broken hearts, blistered fingers and life changing conflicts, she was there holding out her hand.

I used to think my mother owned the world.
She had a way to make it seem like it stopped spinning when she tucked us in at night.
Like we were the only things that mattered when the moon fell.

She battled Love, proper balance and belonging for years. But I couldn’t be more appreciative that we were the motive behind her struggles.

She was a wrecking ball labeled with dedication.
Destroying buildings full of poverty and mental *******.
And she even helped clean up the debris.

I’ve never seen anyone stand so tall after being knocked down so many times. It makes me feel weightless in knowing I have such a gravity shifting role model.

So this Christmas I won’t wish for anything for myself.
I won’t ask for anything to help sort out my troubled thoughts or materialistic struggles.
And I certainly won’t entail anything that strays from you being the subject matter of today.

All I do ask is that you Love yourself as much as I Love you.

You are the strongest, most intelligent and most inspiring woman I will ever know and I’m so lucky to be able to call you my mother.
I am forever cherishing you bringing me into this world and raising me the way you have. I take lessons from you daily and I’ve ended up more than fine.

Thank you, for being you.
*I Love you, mom.

Wrap me up.
Cover me in your tendencies.
Keep my body warm when the cold prevails.

Give me your hand.
I’ll guide you.

Create footsteps next to me.
Let me learn your breaths.
Take from me a mirror image.

Give me your hand.
I’ll follow you.

I’ll always miss you when you’re five feet away.
Or your smile when your face is turned.
And I’ll always miss the soothing energy from your fingertips when you’re gone.

I don’t wish to seek a shelter.
I do not hope to find a settlement.
And I will not search for riches.

Give me your hand.
I’ll hold it to mine.

Because you are the home, I’ve been aching to find.
And I’m tired of making up for lost time.

Show me your welcome mat, and I’ll come right in.
I promise I’ll wipe my feet.
I’ll leave my demons behind.

**I promise.

A simple mind calls for a simple life.
An intellectual heart calls for heartbreak.
A shallow soul calls for an easy lifestyle.
An over-thinking brain calls for unresolved problems.

Try too hard, and we fail.
Don't try enough, and we fail again.

Love too much and you will be hurt.
If you don't Love enough you hurt yourself.

How is it life gives us so many complexes and still expects us not to dream about death?
Or with that, yearn for a day where we can start all over again?
One day a resolution will be found. Burrowed in the dirt somewhere deep inside our growing wills.
Plant your seeds, water your garden, and grow your vessels.

Self-Actualization takes time.

A social climate infected by arrogance
We reek of greed and distortion beyond belief
Bitterness lurks through these seasonal nights to find nothing but subliminal dreams and horrendous frights
The poisons availing population control are becoming relentless
How can we desire ingenuity, if free will is unattainable
The towers have fallen and the hurricanes bring disasters
So is a new world order inevitable, or does that become indulged by the man himself
We've become a species fueled by materials and fallout is knocking at the door
Revolution: an ancient gathering of death and second chances
Because if we were all once "the body", how did we become so hideous
To the higher power, this is all systematical
To us morals, it is life
Searching for this impeccable conduct, we have become sightless of simplistic baggage
Spending too much time throwing a symbolic grenade into our trenches and hoping it blows up; but most often it is a dud
A lesson learned in time, a broad statement, and a suicidal commitment to our hearts
Love
*For if we proceed with this concept, the world will brighten and the dark doors will vanquish

A thought alignment.
A gathering of ideas.
A herd of beings, all with twisted arms.

The condescending conspiracy takes hold like the body of a snake.
How can we expand our minds if they've become beguiled by the thought that everything will "be okay"?
Weight of the truth compares to that of an anvil.
This is why our shoulders become harder to carry around with the years that pass.

So we need to question the most simplistic advocate.

Ourselves.

What is it we need?
Why is it we give up?
Who tamed the fire inside your heart?

Give me passion. Give me hope. Give me assurance that no matter how hard it may be to take that next step into abandonment, you'll keep walking.
Because an empty space never gave you so much opportunity.
A revolution is taking place and we need to open our windows and let the sour breeze roll in.

Find strength in the fallout.
Bring Love in your pockets.

*Awareness is loyalty.

All of the dirt I  rubbed off.
The wounds I stitched up.
Holes, that have been sewn and sewn again.
A heart that has been broken, over and over.

I am still here, breathing.

The marriage I watched crumble over the course of my childhood.
Scars that have left me unable to feel whole again.
Brothers torn apart from drugs, miscommunication, and a lack of loyalty.
Abuse inflicted from a glossy eyed father, never to be forgotten.

I am still here, breathing.

An interdependency I sought out since the age of 15.
Life lessons taught by oneself.
Morals imbedded while witnessing society's fallout.
Worthless was a word branded on my brain.

But I am STILL here, breathing.

A mother who gave all that she could to see her children joyous.
A father who still tries to clean up the battleground at which he demolished an entire family.
Forgiveness comes with the years that pass, but forgetting ceases to exist.
I've learned through losing anything and everything I loved, you need to keep loving.

But I assure you, my lungs still hold air.

To the friends I have left behind.
To the problematic past we breached as a family.
To the brothers I still have.
To the air I still breathe every day.

I am still alive.
And so are you.  

**I love you.

Solution.

It’s you.
It’s always been you.
100 years ago.
100 years from now.
It’s you.
It’s always been you.
And it will always be you.

The tyrant oppressor.
The guided wanderer.
The reluctant adviser.

The seed, the water, the bloom.

Treat your internal life like the tallest sunflower you could grow.
Ease your worries.
Transmit them into a fruition that’s constantly being treated with the most potent fertilizer.

The petals fall, the soil becomes dry, and that plant deceases.

Stray from the singular project and widen your perspective.
You possess a garden so full of life that oxygen feels the need to feed off you.
Utilize your lesson; that being you are wonderful as a whole.

Every fault, every cracked pore on your skin, every doubt.

The underlying truth.
The effective selfishness.
The beauty, of you.

I watched a movie once that related Love to oxygen.
It was at that instance I realized something.
I’ve spent too many years inhaling and exhaling such a fragile and pure concept.
And for once I want to suffocate at the thought of a healthy heart.

I wanted to discontinue the second notion of my lungs.
Because breathing out never sounded so strenuous.

When I saw you, I couldn’t help but gather the atmosphere around me and hold it in.
My better half held it’s hand over my mouth.
But for once I didn’t panic.
The thought of your presence crept in and eased my pain.

At times I feel like I have reoccurring moments.
Like certain circumstances have been lined up for me and you’re my humidifier, aiding my existence.

A kiss.
My lips gather upon yours.
And it is at that time, I can resupply my body with life.
It is at that time, I always understand why he referenced oxygen when speaking about Love.

So when I grow older, I don’t want a breathing tube shoved down my throat.
I just want you there, holding my hand.

I believe we have met before.
Somewhere in a past life.

I believe we have been searching for each other for decades now.
Somehow we found our way again.

I believe we were meant to begin another story in this life time.
One written better than the last.

I believe you were the ink to my pen.
A novel I never got to complete.

I believe in souls.
And you being my mate.

So take my hand.
I’ll carry you home.

Dear Sam.

I aspire for assurance and linger for Love.
I misuse mistakes and inherit insecurities.
I keep trust temperamental and worries wistful.

Sometimes I’m not capable of being best.
And in ratio to my gentleman like conduct I feel as though I come off condescending.

I’m not happy about my heritage.
I sure in the hell am not proud of my pollutants.

But I ask you to view my soul sparingly.
And listen to my voice vicariously.

I have your best interest in mind.
I seek out to heal your beautiful heart.
I want to live all my days deciphering this poem I’ve been reciting daily ever since we met.

Until then, all I can assure you is that my Love runs deeper than any body of water.
All I can say is that I plan on holding you for many lifetimes to come.
All I can say is that I Love you, more than I could ever pronounce.

**I can’t give you the world my dear, but I will show you it.

They say they inspire you.
The catalyst to your creation.
They blinded your view and stole your reflection.

A piece of your clarity was taken.
You and your vocal chords held no relationship anymore.
Voided were all of your reputable commitments you once made.

They took those pieces of your heart that were shedding like snake skin.
You were growing, you were changing.
What else did they expect?

They…were no inspiration, nor catalyst.
You were a pigment on the disastrous piece of art they had been creating.
Reduced to nothing, they expected you to be everything.

Forget they. Remember I.
I want you to fill those voids with self discovery.
I want you to rest your thoughts on the fact that you’ve found Love and she is the miracle to all of your disasters.
I want you to lift your head up, and repeat after me..

I, am still here.
I, inspire myself.
And that’s all I need.

Take your baggage and throw it off a cliff.
Start packing a new bag.
And label it “I AM ME”.

It's four o'clock in the morning
The only reason I am awake is because my brain thinks that in these few hours..when the rest of the world seems asleep..it will find my heart
When no one is around, when the whispers of our generation decease, and when I can peacefully sort out lost thoughts, I think it secretly hopes my heart will come back home and never leave again
An analogy of the sort, when referring to a missing child or animal
Of course in a more sentimental manner, but the point is not hidden