It creeps in through every hour, this ache.
It's all I have to know that I can feel.
Sometimes the cold's enough for me to wake
and all this time I question if it's real.
To spend hours sitting without moving,
thinking of a thousand thoughts to distract
but each effort falls short in improving
a positive way for me to react.
Each day I yearn for words to raise me through,
for it all to just have been in my mind.
And with each wish I realize what's true:
Even at the best of times, life's unkind.
Smiles and exchanges are just for show,
to ensure that there's nothing wrong at all.
But it's hard to hide how much shadows grow
and confide in, with each unwanted fall.
Frost has rooted where joy once had full reign,
it keeps me from finding care in actions
that push me further still from tasks to gain
and places efforts in dull distractions.

In an attempt to draw out the scenes
I find myself unable to think
of a worthy vessel for true means,
of how to make sense of this new ink.
My dreams shine clear through infrequent sleep,
each action and wish mere thoughts away.
Yet open eyes draw dark doubts that creep
and reign through all hours of my day.
I wish for profound sounds to carry
each person to pure rapture and bliss,
but more weights strengthen on top of me,
and render brief happiness amiss.
My sole desire rests in others,
to move the way notes in me vibrate,
through my own loud message that covers
all ways to make feelings resonate.
Now I curse how long my tongue's been dry,
unable to assert its substance.
I never throw words that haunt in lie,
which reasons my constant reluctance.
Someday my lines will be more than lines,
but emotions that reverberate.
My inner self that tries and defines
all my actions as more than just fate.

September 4th, 2011

Tears fall freely, crashing down the slopes of my cheeks,
across my chin, meeting the warm floor.

And then they disappear.

For the first time in years solace prompted my tears,
a joy unfelt in its profundity.

I feel so moved.

The sheer simplicity of its occurrence only multiplies its greatness.

No longer do I feel fear and uncertainty clawing at my mind,
confiding in my aches and pains.

I feel as complete as the day I was born.
No worries or obsessions to drive my thoughts,
only the present feeling.

I don't even fear knowing that this will not be as strong tomorrow,
or present at all.
I'm just content that I experienced it to the extent I did.

In despair I yearned for greatness and nothingness.
Now I yearn for the ability to provide my purpose.

I look inside to find that sometimes,
the simplest things provide the greatest effects.

Tonight I will sleep soundly,
knowing my soul has been nourished so healthily.

Distractions are only existent when thoughts bring them into focus.
My lens is as clear as the depth of my tears.
No filters. No distortions.

Just existence in its simplicity.

No matter what you choose, there's something known,
that keeps you thinking at night's brightened end,
in thoughts and words and actions you have shown,
that proves no more meaning in the word friend.
It simply does not describe it enough,
the way we've carried on these past two years.
I know our methods are nearest to rough,
but there's something deeper than what appears...
Conversations came and went like the days
in between the distractions we both had,
yet every reunion stemmed from your ways,
and the distance between has made you sad.
I am and will still be your memory.
I am and will still be attached to you.
I am with you when you're all but weary.
I am with you more now than ever too.
Why are you so afraid to leave behind
the very one that drove you to bear tears,
when consistency graces your fogged mind,
and assures that he can melt from your fears.
At the end of the day I can't shake you,
which proves your effect on my mind as well.
Just know my words are sincerely true,
let new ways try where words can't seem to sell.

What you see is a mirror. It is filled by your perceptions.
What you see is not a window.
My mirror is filled with conflictions.
To yearn for greatness and nothingness. To seek substance in solitude.
I wish to be and for my mirror to reflect it all.
But my mirror does not shine.
Nor does it show greatness, substance.
Your mirrors suggest it all, glimmer radiantly.
My mirror is not your mirror.
Any one of them.
My mirror doesn't show the flicker of my dreams.
In reality, there is no greatness, substance.
Only existence in its rawest form.

Fear shrouds reality.
My reality.
What my mirror shows is the current day.
Group of hours by group of hours.
The miniscule amount of light does not reveal the future.
Nor could it; for the future is never in sight.
Even in thoughts of it, the future is not truly existent.
Fear shrouds it's reality.
Uncertainty beckons fear.
Yet...
I find comfort in conversation.
When everything else blurs out of focus.
When my existence is more than just existing.
Connecting, sharing, meaning.
But it doesn't last.

I envy sleep's constant serenity.
I do not envy sleep's inconsistency.
My dreams rarely align with my attempts,
and even then they do so with great difficulty.
My dreams are much higher than my reach.
I am not what your mirror shows.
I am not what I have dreamed.
I only am the years I existed.
And that haunts me.

My heart has learned to break cold's shield
and eagerly throbs in its frost
to tell her of my care it yields,
unknowing that its beats are lost.
Her eyes shine in another's now
and any thought of me is gone.
She knows my wants and of my vow,
all that she has smiled upon.
To make her happy at all times
my lips cared to offer words known,
to make her my muse for these rhymes,
yet she confides in the unknown.
My devotion is bittersweet,
to think comfort would fill her heart
numbs me; the truth: it's obsolete;
It makes these words no longer art.
Further sadness knowing I'll wait
despite all these times cast away.
Till then I'll write these words I hate,
cursing love; it brings me decay.

Lying awake in silent tears
each morning, drained of all my might.
To not want to the rest of my years,
to curse I made it through the night.
An overwhelming emptiness
hollows my trust in those who love.
Confide in his uncaring bliss,
unkowing of the eyes above.
He watches with His sincere glance,
provides me with loved ones most near
who are devoted to the chance
of bringing me out of my fear.
Time recalls to re-open scars;
no healing seems to come my way,
it aligns with those who do harm,
at least it seems from these sad days.
But it's not true; time can heal me,
and help those who have prayed each fall.
With their efforts please make me see,
someday accept life's loving call..