it’s not about finding, it’s about attracting.
it’s not about forcing, it’s about adapting.
don’t keep your head down, unless you’re staying focused on your steps.
but even then, i hope you keep your eyes to the sky, whether rain or shine.
i hope you always weather the weather that comes your way.
it’s not about, wishing the pain away.
but more about, understanding the rain that drips on your window pane.
It’s not about complacency, it’s about relativity.
it’s about, remaining patient, holding onto your dignity.
it’s about understanding, withstanding. trusting in, something bigger than yourself.
it’s about asking yourself, are you worthy of what you swear you’re deserving of?
your mistakes, are not the answer to this question.
it’s what you hold, what you choose to invest in, what you’ve digested about your character, what you have to offer for the greater more, the greater good, inside of you.
it’s not about blocking your blessings, or being less than what your lessons have taught you.
do not be afraid to give way to your destiny.
it would be a shame to cry out in the middle of the night, only hoping that your negativity doesn’t tangle your feet.
because it will.
it’s not about self sabotage, it’s about self preservation, letting your soul live on, far past the moment you are gone from this life.
to give to this life, is to be it.

When we are left with nothing, can we measure our happiness? are we really happy with the nothingness
we are laying with? is it really nothing? Or is it everything?

Happiness isn’t a measurement, it’s what defines our life, how we lived it and what principles we live by.
And the mix of emotions we carry is a blazing rift,
unpredictable like the things we see in our eyes.

Or what we see in our minds, the figment of imagination that helps us see or leaves us to stay blind. Something about the times, feels timeless or less exhausting than before. how can we open more doors if we need to feel more?

A silent heart stuck in a dimension unknown to reality, beyond comprehension, beyond nightmares and dreams;
A fantasy, concocted by the very same minds
that would not hesitate to disrupt out peace.
And if it remains silent, what do we feel?
Can we understand what is in front of us, is it real?
Is it something we believe, simply because we see,
or is it an enigma far beyond what we think is reality?

Because my reality seems to be everything to me,
but the imaginary seams are closing spaces between my fingers, where the imagery sings my favorite song. I just hope what is real decides to
sing along so that I can always understand.

I pray your reality is the manifestation of your wishes,
your desires; your dreams and everything that bliss is. I pray you find the answer to the eternal question,
one in which our heart finds no rest in succession.
And when you find it, let the world know dreams exist,
that this dimension is real if we truly so wish.

Let them know that what we search for, we are capable of discovering. Uncovering dreams, unveiling relief, reinvesting in beliefs that come when we no longer to the other cheek to doubt.
when we start to indulge in the things we cannot love without. And I hope that anything you are without, finds it’s way to you,
or stays far away from you. Whichever suits the sanctity of your soul.
I hope you know you are in control.

What is said of the harmony of when our pens meet,
for we have the power to create the definition of world peace.

we have the power to create a beneficial release, more than what they see, more than what they read,
it’s a feeling of planting a seed in spaces that need me, spaces that need you, spaces that need us.

The magic in words can destroy but they can also heal, and that process starts from the heart, from how we feel. If we unite our pens and the ink that flows our rhymes, we could bless this world with a cure for tears and create a dimension for infinite time.

And we will live forever. we will redeem ourselves in the presence of our legacy. dripping blessings like water that comes from the rain that will pour and water all that are parched for love, parched for wisdom, parched for hope. we will live forever through the love we inflicted on those that basked in it through our life and those that would soon understand it in our absence.

Yet hypocritical it shall be, as I know not of love,
I know not it’s touch or the bond of affection & trust.
I am a soul who knew not of such magic, so how can I talk about an unknown undefined love? How can I write about it when my yearning is tragic. How can I write about it when I never really had it? A broken heart tells many tales and not enough.

Yet I write about it and I live like it’s real to me. It’s my dignity. It’s setting me free to feel like I know how to touch. But maybe I just know how to heal.
perhaps not always myself, but they always tell me i helped them to know how to feel. I just hope I brought the right emotions to the center of their wheel, so that when they steer, they follow a path that resonates in the direction that shows them the way.

Your words bring comfort to my hallowed heart, and bring forth to me a hope within a shallow dark. Therein no longer are the whisper stars, yet even so far, perhaps their light may reach me. Perhaps it will illuminate again the emotions I believed in, and ignite the passion I once had to inspire, to write all my wishes, hopes, dreams and desires.May we continue this journey with our pens a flow, so this dream that we invented is something the world will know!

These days, im letting myself fall from all things that bruise me. These days, I'm letting all of these people that knew me, say that they knew me. Like all of the places that chose me, are never spaces that could move me now. These days, they say that they moved me, from something that was true to me. And the truth couldn't be...further than what they could have thrown to me. I'm not new to me. And these days, God and I talk like he pulled Himself through me. And I ask for forgiveness through Him for ever believing that He ever felt unclear to me, or me unclear to Him. For ever distrusting the god in me. I'm sorry you failed to see the deity within me. And that's all I will apologize for. But when I walk my pride to the door, I'll apologize once more. For not being what you thought. For not being what I forgot to be. For seeming to be what I am not. Or...for believing when I ought to doubt. You see, I had to figure it out. Deception being a deflection or a reflection of what I'm about. These days, I'm looking far within and far without. And what it amounts to, makes me want to mount you in a space where I am allowed to dismantle the sounds that you find serenity in. But I am peaceful within, or else I would sin like this. I will let you swim. Backstroke on high hopes, and I have high hopes that you learn from your wrongs. These days, I know the depths of these songs. I sing on and on, until my voice is trembling, explaining why my words are completely gone. These days, I'm moving on.

Some of us do escape pain. Some of us do withstand the rain. Some of us do love throughout the blame. Blame it on us - that people still discuss the concept of needing more. Blame it on us that people still feel the right to explore what they are really looking for. Because what they have seen here, is what they have not been able to hold, there. Blame it on us. We are strong enough to endure your reasons. Because we do, understand the seasons; we are the roots to the trees that constantly, remove their leaves. When they see, that people always leave, we stand. Blame it on us, for implanting what they cannot unsee. We are what they cannot forget. I will not apologize for the regret that remains. Because some do become aware; some do know that a pretty stare can climb down the stairs next to evil and still swear to be true to heart. We all unveil. Some of us do appreciate the art of the struggle. Some of us do find ways in the face of the troubled.
Some of us do find the answers, or at least stumble upon, the right questions. Some of us do become entangled in lessons that they routinely run away from. Some of us do stay. Some of us do want to understand. Some of us love so hard that our hearts become a garden of thorns that they adore, or have adored. Some of us still know how to touch softly. Some of us are still willing to offer our offering, far from our bodies. Some of us still do need to be held throughout our personal hells. Some of us don't know what the hell it would take to get through to you. But please, don't blame us when you plug your ears to our screams. Blame us for the meaning you are seeking when nobody is around to explain to you, the lack of reasoning. We have always been here.
We will always be here. Our presence is a present to the present days and we are here to stay; a reminder to the ghosts of your past ways.

Through their eyes they see me as this..something that is not it. But I wonder if they see me questioning, everything I've ever known. questioning the things I have outgrown. The things I left alone when I was alone, when my home was not a home to know. Things that I own, as a whole. I wonder if they see these question marks curl around my body and end at the period of all my sentences, statements that I make that are that of a trace of things that I feel. I wonder if they ever question if I feel my confusion. Is it an illusion? I hope. But for somebody so focused on being in touch, I would hope that they would clarify their own. Reunite their stares into something worth meaning. Something worth rhyme and reason, worth perfect timing, that would remind me that without the seasons, we would never appreciate change. And it's ironic because I live in a place where the weather remains, constantly encased in an ever changing pace and my mind stays the same. I wonder if they recognize that I still stay the same me through storms and rainbows. Any way the wind blows, I refuse to stick my finger to the wind and tell them which direction it shows. Some things are not my responsibility. Some things are not part of my dignity. Some nights I sink. Some days, I wreak of testimonies I recite to ignite my truths. But what are you? What are you made up of, that could ever judge the questions, the answers that I seek? Just believe. Just, please, let me be. I already told you, I am free.

Some days, I speak so soft. Some days, I speak with a sting from the stiff of my upper lip. Some days, I'm sorry. Some days, something's really gotta give. Sometimes it's like, can I live? Can I love? Some days it's like, is love even enough? Some days it's like, maybe they don't know the definition of such. Like when nothing is just a little too much, and too much just can't be touched. Some days, it's like I can't be touched. Some days, everything moves me. Some days, nothing can soothe me. Some days, the misunderstood stand right next to my heart. And in the same day, I am indefinitely a part of what we all hold on to just to depart from. Holding on to let go.
Some days, my timing couldn't come at a worse time.
Some days, my aligning teeters on a tight rope where I have to walk past my shadow just to get to my light.
Talk about balance. And speaking of, sometimes my balance shows me the definition of gravity. Some days, it's a tragedy. Some days, it's majesty. Majestic, some days I'm pathetic. Never mind that. No I'm not. I'm human. Everyday I am authentic.
My relevance relates to every day I stay, making a way to say, I'm not just aiming to make a way,
But to create a peace I constantly pray in, and I lay in, such serenity. And so in every way, I am I diamond, no matter which way they try to say my name. Lauren, you are exactly what you make.
Some days you need to play it safe, for the sake of your heart. But these days you need to barricade through whatever is in the way, so that you can confidently remain sane in the face of pain.
Whatever you are, you are a stain of what has come and what has came before. And I know you are reaching for more. Lend yourself, to you. Lend yourself your hands. It is all within, the skin you are wrapped in. Amen.

"LOVE ME" ~

It's not what they can do for me. It's more about how they can love me. Because the most that they can do for me, is love me. To console me. To trust me. To send their touch to me in moments where I feel empty in a room full of people that could do without me. It's not what they can do for me.
It's not what they can give me, but what they can spare me. To spare me of a desperation for things that constantly crawl away from me. or that constantly brawl the weight from me. I'm just saying, what is it that they can do, what is it is that they won't try to take away from me? Things that are mine to keep. Like my speech, my peace; just please, take away the pain that left me crying on my knees. That's all I need. It's not what they can give me. It's how they can love me. Because the most they can give me, is love. Love me. They love to love me. They loved to love me. They once loved me. A song I sung from the bottom of my lungs until I was all the way undone. And so I've become...the sum of love songs that were so strong and in the melody I belonged. and where I may have went wrong, well, the lyrics to my story, they sing it all. But it's what he's giving me, that keeps my voice so strong. I told him, it's not what you can give me. But how you can love me, baby. Keep on loving me, baby. So perfectly imperfect, your scars make it all worth it. Let's compare. And what I can give you? Well, you tell me. But I promise to spare us, well, we, a death of a warm love turned cold. They say the hottest love has the coldest end, and that could never be true through me and you. Our veins, remain heated, through and through.
my shivers thank you, yet I still get the chills when I look into you.
#creative #word #writersofinstagram #love #triggered #forever #poetry #poeticjustice #poetsofinstagram #create #peace #music #art #spokenword

They ask us to breathe, while they stay gasping for air. They ask us to reach, while they pull back on our chair. They tell us to speak, and ask us to be silent when it wouldn't be fair. They ask that we see, only to criticize a question brewing in our stare.
I often wonder if it's something in the air, like breathing, freely, is the only thing I'm chained to.
Like needing meaning is the meaning behind all I've came to. And look what I've come to...
They ask that we hold on tight to the things that are meant to fall through our fingers. They ask us to let go, let go of things we know, let go of all that lingers.
So how do we believe in forever?
When our touch can only offer so much and our cries see so many goodbyes, when our time never really ties into the time we put into the lows to see the height of the highs. But we do. We do believe in forever. And I hope forever doesn't eternally leave us to bask in an unanswered prayer of hope.
You know, I hope. You know, I hope to remain in such a place of trust. The place where I...unapologetically feel just. Where I feel just, the feeling. The same place where I get to hold onto the meaning of what I'm reaching for. The same place where I don't have to explain it anymore. The same place where forever is a revolving door, Or like a revolver to your very core. They ask that we touch the sun, and then they bring us a gun, and tell us to choose.

I am entirely triggered and this is my muse.

That's not how it works, that's not how it goes.
I'll show you how it feels to live every day on in the very tips of your toes,
trying to see just beyond a vision you've already reached for.
I'll show you what it's like to need more.
I'll show you what's it's like, I'll show you what to bleed for.
I'll show you how to breathe forth, whispers bold enough to blow the whole world up. How it feels to have your words come out of the back of your throat at half the note that you really feel,
and still terrorize the most perfect ears to have ever listened in years.
To hold tears of people you only picture dressed in a smile, ones that would make you run for miles upon miles.
I'll show you what it feels like but only for awhile...
while all things are true within my truths, sometimes even the recluse refuse to lose the connections that became their muse. Sometimes we wake up, and say, I'll show you it feels to understand the confused.
To make the ironic, incredibly iconic.
I'll show you where I lost it,
I'll show you how I built it back.
I'll show you the line and where I crossed it;
I don't know how to hold back.
Maybe it's that I lack, or that I was given, a concept in my heart that released me from a prison
away from chains around my name and shackles that laid suffocating my veins.
I am free now, no longer pressed in my shame. I was to blame for everyday that I remained a day away from my serenity.
And now, I feel so heavenly.
Flying free, and lately, you remember me.

~ L.E.G

and I know it's not easy to rest in me when my energy is heavy.
I feel it too.
I'm with you. see, sometimes there's things I cannot shake.
There are things that make me break, and I am not ashamed.
but I am afraid to make the same mistakes twice, because these vices give me life,
though it's not always right.
And I don't need them to validate my state of mind when I see both sides like front and rear.
So everyday is a day to keep my vision clear.
But if I'm envisioning life through water droplets does that really still count to be clarity through these optics?
And sometimes I'm completely off this topic
because I'm often softly spoken and nauseous
at the thought of being cautious and having the contents of my mind being thrown into an object,
as if it were anything anyone could ever touch.
I don't ask for much but to keep your hands off my feelings and to just...
lend me your breathing.
And it always comes down to what they are needing
and I'm caught between,
teetering on a line of giving and receiving.
Karma vs. healing.
Like, what have they given me that I can believe? And what have I done to deceive but didn't really mean?
so I I guess I...better believe in things that I never saw.
I better sturdy my mouth and tighten my jaw.
Only speak when it's more beautiful than the silence that leaves them in awe.
A tension so raw it could be bought, but I was taught not to sell my soul.
Though it wouldn't be gold, more like water,
translucent to the soul that makes us whole.

He wants you to breathe easy into him. Gentle speech, gentle touch. You see, the touch of a woman  causes him to curl into the shape of question marks that rested on his heart, and you are now the art of his mind. His punctuation. The way he unwinds, his imagination. You are all that exists and all that never did. He wants you to wrap your arms around the strength he holds because society told him to do so, the fragile untold woes that they never would know. Because he wasn't raised to ask to be held, or even be compelled to cry. He wants to be elastic. He wants to spread beyond moons, with you being the shooting star to his eye. He wants to fly. He doesn't want you to ask why, but asks that you understand. He wants you to withstand, what it really takes to hold down a man with aspirations, with emotions, he wants devotion. Watch how he opens up when he receives the love his mother gave him, or even the love she didn't. He wants you to be forgiving. He wants to receive what he has been giving. And you should recognize all that he has been missing. He wants you to listen. And you will glisten. Like the sweat that drips within him when he is nervous in the presence of the beauty of you. He wants to break through. He wants to understand the shape of you. And not what he can physically feel, although that appeals, he wants to be able to trust in a love that will always be enough. Because the man can understand that he is hard to touch, with callused hands and quick demands. Because we demand so much as women, forgetting that sometimes even our thoughts could be unforgiven. I just ask that we are reliving the pieces of us that fall into our man that make them harder to touch. They never asked for much, either.

We don't ask for too much. We just want to be loved. We just want to feel trust, like how we feel the sky fall when it all is never enough. We want to be enough. We want to give it all up for you. We want to be true. We want to feel renewed. We want to feel you, as much as we feel our solitude. Like every molecule that falls into our pores, we want to be yours. We want to hold open doors because they were held open for us. We want to travel ocean shores that were once too far and far too much. We don't want to be too much. We don't want to push away your touch. We want to be in love. We want to believe in "us". We want to feel God, like you were sent from him to us from above.Understand, our wants become needs. Desires become things. Things, we can't always touch. But we always ask, would that be too much. Just a sign to remind us that we are loved, when we do bleed this blood and we leave it up...to the men that hold our hands and protect all our plans; the pressure that withstands when it comes to being women. we just want to be acknowledged through our sin again and again.Because we weren't raised to give in, but then again, we find ourselves slightly begging within for him to see us at the very point we begin within. When we were never without, but our past made us doubt. We are empowered beyond reason, we just pray that they don't change like the seasons. Because we feel that too, through and through. That's why our hearts can turn summer into the wet morning dew. Waking up, looking at you, wondering if we made it through to you from the night before that left us separate in twos. We just want to be one, that's why we become so undone. Good morning, when it's all said and done, we become, the sum, of what has left and what is yet to come.

Some days, I can't be what they want me to be; though I never think about it that way. Some days, I find it hard to stay sane in a world filled with pain that isn't even my own. Some days, my home feels more like a broken bone, healing beyond the meaning of growth. I learned how to cope, long ago. There is no need to ask me why I roam into the unknown spaces of myself.I deserve to know. I deserve to grow into me. I deserve to love infinitely. And so I do. perhaps once, I was not prepared to. Premature steps filled with short breaths had me exhausted far before the storm rained down on me. But I would always find a space within me to be free amongst the water, my fluidity. gravity always seemed to pull me down in the midst of a rising sun...Until I learned how to live my life as soon as the moment begun. I rise with the energy that keeps me one. One one one, I am the sum of what my hands have unraveled to come undone. Do not question my achievements, because I can promise you it came from the only place that I believe in. That may be the same place that I have grieved in, never to deceive my agreements.There is a reason, for all that I sleep with. For, all that I ever needed was within. So how am I gonna win if I'm not right inside this heart of sin? Human, so flawless in a pool of imperfections. I am rested, knowing that all that I know,
is all I am kept with.

I have questions; Questions regarding the lessons, disarming me. Like why things that would be alarming to the majority, no longer surprise me..Or why they look at me crooked when I've straightened parallel to the ones aligning. Or why when I'm crying, the ones I thought would be beside me are prying away, like they waited for the perfect day to say goodbye. Or why, despite it all, I've yet to feel so alive, as I do now. Because in order to survive we must not crouch down, or bow down to the things that would never amount to the amount of love we wish to give out. Avoiding handouts as if my hands were tied my back. because to receive for free what I can't live without would have me living only with what I lack day in and day out. A soul priceless and timeless, and I'll bet money that they'll always be able to write this, even if I left this world in the name of righteousness. I have answers, though the questions hold much more. Like why the things that I happen to adore, have me hugging the floor. Is it a passion to implore into more? Or a clashing that I ignore until it hurts like a sore that I thought I never asked for? But still I remain, as fluid as the ocean shore that only asks me to soar and welcomes me into its core. I'm learning to dive. Back stroking waves that sweep me out of the bad dreams to real life, where I get to choose what keeps me alive and what I thank God for at night. As long as I can see the moon shining bright, I know within my heart it will all be alright. Goodnight.

..And although I am content as I write this,
I have found it hard to write through my happiness. For days, months, years, I continued to harvest this pain. Self inflicted; sometimes, one might say, that I was to blame - inflicting pain on my name whenever it rang. Or maybe sometimes, the world, I found a little too aggressive to tame. Trying to remain centered in my frame while all of these picture frames around this place starting taking center stage on a new terrain, or an old one: focal points of the past. Look at all that I have passed. So many leaking words, screaming to be heard but never last; perhaps only pressed into the pages I turned and still turn, that may be the only things I know assured. But I choose not to see my life as depicted so blurred. My vision is not perfect; but a vision when you know that you're worth it can create a mind that is certain on what's pertinent. I am a servant to myself. Health, wealth, and all combined. yet they still wish me hell while they stand beside the wishing well. Oh well. What am I to do? When the hopes of tomorrow might not ever become true...but to become so succumbed into thinking that we are inevitably doomed would have my mind, heart, and the very force that never holds them apart, separated in two. And so I choose. I choose when I speak, I choose when to heal.And it's like writing my pains allowed them to stand in an image a little more real, whereas my absence to the page represents my ultimate appeal: applying a happiness where words just can't seem to peel back the genuine feel. I guess I am healed. I thank you for guiding me here and allowing me to hear. I'll be near.

If you knew better, you'd do better...so they say. But they say and they say again today,
and always change like the new weather.
And these days are so cold - but I never fold. Balancing on my tippy toes,
the clouds smell my lofty goals,
while my nose is so awfully close to wherever my chin goes...and it's to the sky, every time. They ask me why, as if I felt I had a choice;
as if I didn't know that I have a voice that deserves to be voiced.
And that's a matter of opinion - they say to pick one.
But sometimes the sides within question are missing certain lessons,
and placing my feet into either step then
would have me left with what I was only trying to leave.
I stay in the middle, centered, finding myself - moments to breathe.
That's what I need...moments to breathe.
And what they want for me would come with a cost that I am unwilling to toss
into their wishing well.
It's like they wish me hell under their breath -
so unkept to the love that they claim to project. So let me interject.
Even the reject can sense the concept of neglect, or disrespect...
some things that a chest kept locked in a chest filled with regret and words unsaid.
And so I said "this is my last message";
I forgive, never to forget,
that the hands that shake mine
should hold more time to align the mirror, before they judge what stands before mine
when I write these rhymes.
It is now my time, as it always has been...
to never give in to what is less than positive.
I am sick of my stomach turning to walls yearning to cave in, ever so blatant.
I am done running in a foot race that I was never raised in.

And it seems that lately,
they run and hide when inevitably,
their actions no longer can be seen through the words they spoke, so openly.
And yet, they notice me,
but not the things that I see, or see through.
I see you.
But when the mirror is perfectly placed, towards their face,
they are off and away, again today,
to run away from the day that could teach them to stay.
And so I say, we will never learn the lessons we do not search for.
Or even more, we will keep running to closed doors
that were built to remind you that you ignored they keys that jingle so dormant
on your soul's cold floor.
It's in the fire of my core that I learned to be as fluid as the ocean shore.
Being as vast as that,
my mind becomes confused when they run from all that they lack.
Moving fast just to stay in place,
now I know why they can't look me in my face. It's a disgrace, the way that they blame the day. Everything they say,
while looking the other way,
reaching for the things they only would push away when day breaks.
And it seems like lately,
they are wasting their breath, spoken so shaky. this is why they do not shake me,
I am so unmoved by anything that does not move with me, genuinely.
A stale tone never would break me,
though my voice travels, ever so faintly.

I'd hope that you'd see my perspective through all my projections,
all these interjections that came from the lessons in moments I have been tested.
And now it feels like I am testing the deity that moves within me.
Though I am not He, He is the sum of I.
Oh my, time flies through the darkest pits of my eyes.
Watching the sun rise and night fall,
when all befalls - the very reason I used to crawl, being held up by the only walls in the home that I would call,
or the walls that I mounted up to protect my heart from the very things that would ask me to halt or at least stall.
looking at them like "don't you know that I want it all?"
They ask me why I want it at all,
and I'm glad they asked.
Recognizing my purpose through every task is what I have asked myself to master.
Through disaster and through the water, the intentions that I offer will be as pure as water at the alter.
And I can be even softer than that.
But I can also be the one that never calls back, Depending on how you act.
Depending on how you blend with my plan of attack, we can be vast or we can retract every statement ever spoken when my love was awoken, out in the open.
They leave me exposed,
fully clothed,
stripping me of the trust I pulled from the instinct of my gut.
So it is a must that I, remain in sight, to self love that I, composed tonight.
It is the same love of yesterday, that never ran away, even when they, hold my hand while they turn their face.

Trigger. Pull on my ankle like an anchor when I reach for something bigger. Trigger. Provide me warmth, then leave me for all of the winter. Last winter was a cold one. Trigger. Compare me to your old one. Like what has even yet to begun isn't already there and above a love you would love to love. Trigger. Tell me I'm not enough. But I called your bluff, and enough is enough. I won't come undone into empty space. Trigger. Disembody my grace. Waste time trying to save face, knowing this is not the place. Own your take and give me back my shadow I had perfectly placed. Trigger. You aimed it at me. Trigger. They came exactly...how I would never approach, yet they say I am their only hope. Trigger. there's things you should know that don't go down the throat easier than swallowing pride. And you'd rather live less alive, than to be quiet in the night making sure your mind is right. Trigger. Or how that might, just send you to the sky, and you might survive a high you've pinned down your whole life. Trigger. Let it ignite. Trigger. I could be wrong. Trigger. I could be right. And sometimes it feels like, they deem me wrong before my mistakes. Trigger. So I ask, what does it take, to not break, before day breaks. But before I could finish, trigger...pulled. Echoes break. Trigger...pulled. Death to the ego that tried to save its face. Trigger...pulled. Death to the disembodied grace. Trigger...pulled. Aimed at anything severing from the misplaced. Trigger...pulled. The insane pointing fingers at the sane. Trigger pulled. I remain.

They say that it could all be a dream. Just breathe.
They say my disconnect to the normal scene took away my normalcy.
I've fallen into the cracks between a desire to leave and a calling to lead. Breathe.
Don't let them see.
They don't see behind the same mirror as me. Breathe. Anxiety fogging up the mirror slightly; begging it to fight me, like I don't fight it nightly, like my fingers don't grip tightly around this pen so much that it's frightening.
My mind is an aggressive typewriter that walks along a tight wire - falling in love with the nights I get to admire the view of my feet dangling over the fire. Breathe.
You are safe up here.
You could disappear and still be near to all that will forever appear to be as real as what goes on in front of your mirror.

I hope you never fear her.
Breathe.

**** your condescending words, dripping out of your mouth with false justification, while your left hand leaves your side to crash down on the entirety of me.
With this mindset, it'd never be right to have the upper hand on me.
You deceive your right hand man.
**** your demeaning doubts that you place upon my mind, begging to come in and destroy the art I have displayed inside.
I did not cry out for you, so why are you here? Speaking of which, I remember when my cries drove you to steer far from anything that might be near my heart.
You don't get to see me fall apart.
You don't get to see me tear down the art away from its poetic position, just so you can place it in a box and treat it like its garage  sale quality.
I get to have all of me.
**** your motives ulterior that are just as superficial as your leather interior.
**** being inferior to the ones who cannot function if they're not superior.
I've been living on my feet for the sake of time, and you're only getting off your knees because you're out of it.
**** being distant from truth because you don't like the sound of it.
Drown a bit in the waters of self-confrontation, and choke on the paralyzed verbs you throw at the population.
**** validation.
**** your accusations.
And **** being mistaken when the step you've taken is only a misstep.
You are not your mistakes.
So **** letting the outtakes paint the scenery of your film.
My patience is wearing thin like a film on the edge of an outdated window seal.
**** making me feel something that was never real because your seal was never sealed tight enough, ******* in cold nights when you didn't write enough.
Riled up in silence with a heart beating violent...
**** allowing your chest to become the battlefield and letting stress feed your diet.
I've tried it and tried it, but today I say...

**** being quiet.

If I'm not in my right mind, then what am I left with?
Would it be wrong if I left it?
We live reckless just to feed on breathless seconds that we wish would last a lifetime.
There's no suicidal mind when you're your own lifeline.
We can't run from ourselves.
I'm sure we have all wanted to just stretch out of our skin when the words burn from within
Because you don't know where to begin, avoiding what they would taste as a sin as it drips from your lips.
The conflict that exists in the midst of the mist that crawls upon these fists that refuse to give in.
You don't have to fight yourself.
If I am not in my right mind, then where am I? I am daring to deny that you are not I (eye) - because I see the skies live larger than life.
This time I hate to be right, but the life is stale in your eyes.
You must've never learned how to scale your sight.
Run from this limitation.
A gun to your finicky fixations;
Be one with x in any equation.
Multiply you are not just another number, by you are not just another stutter that is uttered through the lips are the unsure..
And you will get the summer.
You would know that if you ever dared to wander from the shade you hide under.

- L.g

They talk to me like they know me
But I have never shown myself fully.
I have only shown a half-fragmented eclipse
Like the moon that perfectly hits my spine
to uncoil this life I put on the lines.
Their eyes engulf me and hold me for a minute.
Maybe it's only a minute because they try to turn me to a cynic that mimics a limit.
I become imprisoned in their stare;
Seeing myself in their glare was like seeing myself behind bars.
I wonder what it's like to care, but never take it that far.
They talk to me like they know me.
They tell me what I am, like I haven't met myself before.
Like I haven't lived with myself in times I was searching, begging for more.
Like I haven't seen myself trapped in their stale eyes,
just to be told to not get offended.
Apprehension, they want me paranoid.
Passive aggression just to fill a void.
They talk to me like they know me.
Like they sleep in the same bed, undead to the same head.
Cold sweats that bleed red.
They talk to me like they know me.
Like they know the words held back are necessary and unholy.
Like I am obligated to be seen regardless..
When I all want is me in this apartment getting lost in the nonsense of my conscience.
You don't know my constants.
You don't know that I am gentle enough to feel the trigger
with my trigger finger, just to pull back on myself.
Ego removed.
They talk to me like they know me,
So I'll take the trigger and bring it to you.

This is how it feels when I look down this barrel
of misconstrued views.
You cut me off mid-sentence just to put words in my mouth
and shoot.
So untrue to you.
Maybe you see you
In me.

They will never know me.

Do you believe in doubt?
Do you doubt your beliefs?
I believe you should think about it.
Are the things that you live without, slowly haunting your dreams?
I believe you should seek around it.
Be the sound of it.
Keep your candle lit.
Which side will you pick?
It is either a detriment or a benefit...
Elegant excellence or a pessimist's deficit.
My heart is split but it is not broken.
One side has surely spoken and the other cannot stay focused.
This has taught me devotion...
Devotion to notice emotion without feeling so hopeless.
But sometimes we need to hope less.
My soul is, far from soulless.
We need to know this when support is absent.
When the balance doesn't equate to the fraction,
our passion will not become stagnant.
I'm going to keep on running.
Never away, always to stay.
I am inflamed in the purest of todays.
Say my name when it rains.
You will need my warmth with the ice that remains tangled in your veins.
I am glad you came.

- L.G.

I flipped and flopped
And i flopped with the flip.
Heart fluttering silence
as I keep my candles lit.
Because the wax never molded
and the burn never fit.
I carry my flame that came from the hottest of pits.
Life ticked and it tocked
and i mocked every bit.
Until the sounds my from my mouth
seemed to mimic all of it...
Like I laid in every ditch or fulfilled every wish.
And I wish that it didn't have to rise like this,
as I sit and it hits.
I am a collision with an abyss.
My eyes blurred then they rendered the vision of a corrected pretender.
Here I am, perfecting the walk of the sender.
You could put my mind in a blender and i would still remember
that the blade is my center.
I have been spinning around this whole time; we should dance.
When was the last time you took a chance?
I want you to advance into my hands,
and i will keep you warm like all the grains of sand
on summer's hottest day.
We will watch it fade away into something bigger than what our eyes could ever lay or play on.
The question is will you stay or will you go?
I hope these words soon engulf all of your
brightest hopes.
Please, promise to stay awoke.

-L.G.

I often feel caught between the crossfire of resistance and the art of surrender.
This is persistence persevering with a heart that is tender.
My mind often seems trapped in a blender;
it tried to convince me that I am no contender against the storms I will weather.
But then, I always remember:
I. Am. The. Center.
Let me find my middle ground again.
I transcend, no matter how far I bend.
I know a little about breaking.
Please, do not forsake me.
My heart often mistakes me to be a vessel of safety.
See, I have been teetering on the edge of what makes me and what could break me, insanely.
Ironically, I find beauty in the struggle to breathe with ease.
We leave our minds to release.
I become unleashed and wait for my moment to succeed, in finding my peace.
This is deep.
In a deep sleep I compete with the disconnected and the complete.
I stand underneath my reality and the imaginary image.
I feel it overtake me, and i watch it all diminish.
I suppose this is what happens when we have the courage to truly listen.
I work with what I am given.

- L.G.

Everything I believe in all came in sequence.
I fall into the deep end and my night becomes sleepless.
I breathe this like i need this.
Fall into the pits of a mind that doesn't know it's genius.
Everything I feel is hard to conceal.
I am losing my grip on how to hide all that is real.
You can see it on my face when I feel misplaced.
Just waiting for the day where things catch up to my pace.
Everything I see, once blinded me.
It became tied to me, like an anchor to the sea.
I almost drowned in what I never thought I'd believe.
Overwhelming changes that I didn't adhere to gracefully...
Now, it is nothing new.
Like putting on my shoes, I have grown accustomed to the view.
They say never look down, but what if you live in the sky?
Do we have to die to realize that our time is only passing us by?
Become alive.
Become the night.
Become the fight that always wraps tightly around you, forcing you to become a shade that is warmer than blue.
Who knew that I would astound you with the view that I choose?
Everything I am came to me like am slow motion frame.
And now I sit here and reminisce about the time that it all changed.
The difference is, I all not sure when it all happened.
So I suppose I see clear through a time I had only imagined...

-L.G.

I am here; I am absent.
I am near; I am past tense.
I am silence; I am communication.
I am timeless; I am preservation.
I am the words in this conversation.
I am simple; I am complexity.
I am a ripple; my waves crash heavily.
I am wise; I know nothing.
I am goodbyes; I am coming.
I am love; I am afraid.
I am stuck; I mapped the maze.
I am fearless; I am the reason you feel this.
I am sensitive; I am strong.
I am relative to the lyrics in your songs.
I am.
You are.
We should be, everything that could be.
Signed sincerely,
An imperfect human.

- L.G

This is the calm before the storm.
Like I've said before, I am a storm unborn to a norm.
Trap my body with poisonous thorns, but my mind will soar like never before.
I implore that you learn to adore all that resides in the depths of your core.
Learn more.
This is the dream that wakes you out of your sleep.
Lucidity that bleeds deep into your dignity.
Take a look at the imagery.
It reflects the mirror I dive into like water, rather frequently.
I am an element of the trinity.
Mind. Body. Soul.
I am becoming whole in a black hole that I once thought I would never know.
This is the answer to my deep-seated question.
For some reason I continue to ask like a broken record, but I find myself always learning a new lesson.
This is the answer to the question you never bothered to ask.
In the trash you will find a stash of everything from my past that used to cut beautifully, like stained glass.
I am the glue, who knew?
The wind blew and the storm came much too soon.
Too soon...to you.
I grew to know that everything I knew would be so far gone with the changing view.
Like the lightning in these dark skies, I am just trying to get through.

- L.G.

Is it possible to harbor "too much" love?
Does it blind those that look into these eyes, like when you look directly into the sun?
My eyes are tired and burn in the darkness of night, and I'm not sure if that's a relfection of being one with the light or being tired from this endless fight.
We spin on turntables of various perspectives.
The tables turn and our hearts turn aggressive.
A voice that shakes like unstable breaks, makes me want to thank the way these words easily become written all over my face.
You don't have to look too far, just look into my eyes - a demise that is out of sight.
It might be the right time to end all that should die inside of these rhymes.
Maybe I'm right, maybe I'm wrong, but that is the beauty in life - we still have the freedom to create our own song.
So, we walk.
We walk to the beat of our dreams, yelling "**** what you see me to be, I believe in all the words that they never could sing to me!"
Aggression gently hidden by a message.
Answers, always ridden on the wrong end of the question.
This is my confession - I walk to a song of everything I reckon, through these turntable eyes.
Recognize, my demise won't be televised.

- L.G

A friend once asked me, "when do you know when it is the right time to say that you truly know yourself?"
My answer was clear of hesitation, as I said "right now."
That was then, and this is now.
Perhaps I didn't fully understand the question that rang from his mouth.
Maybe i was too proud to announce that there was an ounce of feeling that was somewhat new to me.
Something that seemed so true to me, didn't spill from my heart very fluently.
Looking back, I personally regret being so bold in a black hole that I never knew how to control.
The question is, how do we know?
How do we know that what we "know" will not change with growth?
How do we grow if everything we know now, can easily be put on hold?
On this road of self-control,  when we strike a *** hole, do we roam free until we find home?
Do we suddenly feel alone in our own home when we no longer have the answers to our questions?
Why was I so sure that "who I am" was undoubtedly free of opposing lessons?
I became reborn, and this question kept ringing in my ear, but I was the only one sounding the horn.
I can't say that I know who I will be in a year, but I know who I try to be today.
That's what I meant to say.
To be a vessel of love and strength to the hateful and weak on their very last day.
To be the silence that speaks, like when I watched myself be awake in a dream.
I will be the resonating words that you thought went unheard to the lone bird, hovering above a world of hurt.
"Right now" is a small and narrow vow, but it keeps me around to be better a year from now.
I hope you all find clarity as I have found mine.
I ate my own words after all of this time.

Would you please, ride with me into the sunset?
Let your true colors drip slowly from your anxious sweat.
Tell me all the things you've never been able to forget.
Would you please, come as you are?
Never make me have to look too far to see everything, near and far, that has created you into this work of art.
Let me start in your eyes and land in your heart.
Maybe you could give me a part of you that nobody knew, because they always tried to picture you in the same, simplistic view.
I am your eyes. Your eyes are mine.
Would you please allow me to intertwine through your mind?
Give me some time to wrap my vine around the warmth of your shine.
Would you please, lay with me under the stars?
We could rattle Mars with the energy that is ours.
I am never too far if you just extend your arm.
Would you please, reach with me, as we discover something we cannot see?
Something that drops me, please, to my knees - and it will relieve many things.
Roam free with sympathy.
It will extend my wings so I may learn to fly differently.
Ascend into these black holes of imagery.
We dream vividly, like the true colors that drip from the spring showers of my soul.
A symphony of seperate shades becoming whole.
This sunset, is never dull.

Would you please, come with me?...

I position the points to these letters ever so delicately, so that they can roam free through this never-ending sea, as they have been trying to do ever so desperately.
And my hand, it shakes somewhat dangerously - a calm soul with a heart filled with anxiety.
I sit quietly.
At times, it is admittedly frightening...the things that cling like magnets to the surface of me.
Do you ever wonder if you are deserving?
And if so, how far do you go?
Do you know that hope without growth creates the monotone note?
I position the points to these letters so that maybe, I can approach you better.
Maybe you will learn to see me beyond measure, light as a feather, drifting away as naturally as the weather.
Do you catch yourself asking why you ask these questions in the middle of the night?
Do you ever get tired of the fight?
We should take flight out of our minds and land somewhere far out of sight.
My insight ignites the pounding eyes that sit in the pockets of my heart.
Seeing and feeling, they live on different continents, separately a part. Not apart.
The middle is the kindle for the art that arches through the tips of these letters and ends at the grip of my cramping hands.
For, everytime I sit down to write, I am obligated to take a stand...
Or at least take the time to understand why these words never flow as delicately as I once planned.

- L.G.

It is important that we do not run when the fire within burns hotter than the sun.
If we must face disgrace to reach our saving grace, this is a race we must trust.
We have only begun.
We cannot let our demons chase us down into a corner of misery and confusion.
They always tell is that we are trapped with no solution, but we must break free from this misguided illusion.
Are we to tighten our grip or are we to loosen?
My questions always form from a place that is free of pollution.
I am never diluted.
I run towards the place I used to think I was running from.
I have been running so long, i can feel it in my lungs.
But this is the song that needed to be sung.
I pull and tug on a place that is bound to break.
I always ask myself if I should learn to play it safe.
I may be awake in a dream but these cycles revolved around me, not what you think I should see.
I pull and tug on the rope of love that was hung above when you decided you had been running, long enough.
It reminds me to never give up.
When my lungs are fed up, I know I must get up and remember that with myself, comes trust.
This vessel of love is never undone.
We have only begun.
When it is your time to run, I hope this rings in your ear, crystal clear,
in a place where you discover the face of grace that had always been misplaced, until now.

- L.G

Have you ever watched it go from so simple to entirely complex,
like in the way you watched me dance in that dress of distress?
...When laying on your chest turned into counting all of your breaths; I heard your heartbeat express everything I could never forget.
Have you ever watched it all bloom beautifully out of its doom, like the shadow in your room that will consume all that you knew, but allows you to move in a motion that can always improve?
You learn to assume that you must remove what was once untrue to you.
For me, I've watched a teardrop turn into a vast sea...
A change in perspective - to see that there is no end to the idea of what could be.
Have you ever watched a ripple turn into a fierce rumble of waves?
Those kind of days where the gaze in your eyes is no longer misplaced in the maze. A certain place where we finally take the stage, leaving a trace of a brave-hearted phrase that we will let seep from our broken cage.
Would you trade everything you've made?
I am back stroking upon the hightide, and i am unafraid to be alive.
I have traveled far away from the shallow waters and taught myself what diving had to offer.
The water seems much softer in this place I have wandered.
Have you ever watched the observer become the one watching yourself?
Everything on your shelf is no longer your wealth, and you become rich in the way you felt the day you would so peacefully melt in a space you comfortably dwelled.
I wonder if you find yourself compelled to face all you have withheld...to watch everything become propelled into another realm of reality.
I wonder when I was upheld in this place where all of these words fell far from out of me.
I reach so I can see everything that I knew I could be...
I am one with the sea, and i swim effortlessly and truly.

I am driven by a force that is to be reckoned with.
I have ridden a dark horse, and we ride away just as the seconds drift.
I feel a little section of me split - the section that has rested in a pit,
perfectly fit to figure out if i should fly far away or to commit.
I must admit that it once hurt a bit.
You tend to feel unfit when you know that the energy you emit radiates something that seems unsure.
You feel a little less pure on a path you are not assured you are ready to endure.
so you do what you prefer,
and you defer a lesson learned.
It is no wonder many are unsure since birth.
We cannot close our ears to the words
that would appear blurred to our eyes
and expect to travel any further than a tiny, flightless bird.
We must be unafraid to fly, in order to be heard.
I wonder if you hear me.
I heard the seconds drift.
I have become equipped with the ability to recognize
the riffs in the waves that slowly drip
from my fingertips.
I loosen my grip so that these words can dance off my tongue
and fall from my lips.
These tiny dancers form from a pit,
perfectly fit to soon eclipse the perfect note.
Too soon, my melody plays
everything that I ever wrote.

- L.G

If the sky is the limit, then please, tell me where I fit in.
I slow dance while I hover above the clouds,
just trying to listen.
If the sky is the limit, there will be no room for a cynic.
We will never bloom with a heart that was surely never in it.
If the sky is the limit, I will tell my soul to take on the shape of a mockingbird
and my wings will mimic.
If the sky is the limit,
then one day we will be finished.
Something will diminish within it,
and i will not fade away without leaving something for the children.
I continue to listen and i hear everything that is missing.
Like the space between these lines
or the fine print that provides the most detailed signs.
Let me fill in the blanks.
If the sky is the limit,
I wonder what being limitless takes.
Maybe it takes on the shape of the letters in words
going unheard.
Maybe it is in the muscles assured,
that make you get up not the first or second time,
but the third.
Maybe it's in the charm
that rests in the heart of the sleeve on my arm.

If the sky is the limit,
maybe we will go too far.

- L.G

I am so disconnected, but equally as in touch.
I believe in everything within me, but still do not believe in much.
I understand if you wonder how that could be.
Maybe you will never know, detached from my frequency.  
I used to see it as an emergency when I would bleed these things
and no one would hear me.
My heart would panic like a manic depressant;
I was a maniac that didn't know how to stop second guessing all of these lessons.
I suppose it was my pride that halted me from living life alive,
instead of merely existing.
Things that kept on insisting, I kept on resisting.
I used to wonder why I was exhausted and still only desired to sleep...
Until I realized that my dreams were the only place I felt I could be free.
I was a dead tree living in the middle of a forest of blooming leaves...
And then the day came where I gained inspiration through the branches of the the trees
that were reaching out for me.
My dreams began to sleep on me;
So now, when I bleed, I want to give you something to read.
Then, maybe, you can see me times 3, as I reflect off a deflection of what you see me to be.
I mirror myself as the third person through these words.
I am even and odd; disproportionately birthed.
I roam with the heards,
but I fly with a flock of unheard birds.

This is my world...

- L.G

Misplaced anger, displaced strangers.
Where do we go wrong
putting all these hearts in danger?
I stare out the window and i realize
that this is not the place for me..
When I should be outside living freely;
I am tired of waiting patiently.
Clear some space for me, would you please?
I am assured that I need
to be comfortable because this, too, is a place for me.
Hidden aggression, backwards digression.
If we do not move forward,
we will never learn the lesson.
We act too prideful, like we are all rivals;
Not realizing that we should be one - no wonder we are suicidal.
Because we are too caught up in the lust,
and not the love.
Living below but never above...
When push comes to shove,
we should never laugh when another bleeds.
Where is the sympathy?
The empathy leaves
when it doesn't benefit the sheep.
I weep at the fact that we refuse to understand.
We have left all this substance on the counter,
as we stand here bland as man and woman.
That's exactly what we shouldn't be.
I know that "the land of the free" has little to offer you and me...
But I feel that we should flee
beyond everything that stands between.
Heartless rhythm and undeserving victims...
I stand here with my heart on my sleeve.
while my third eye stares at me, in the pyramid of my prism.

- L.G

My heart is heavy today,
as I try to wrap my brain around how I can make a way,
so that we all forever say that we are equal.
This seems like a sequel to the darkened history that leaves our world blistering
with the burns that lurk and linger from the gun powder behind the finger on the trigger.
This is much bigger than me and I know it's hard to see
that we can all be free.
If I could bleed for you,
I would grieve so hard that the trees would rip from their roots.
I would stand in front of these guns that they shoot at you.
If I could clean the hearts that they constantly pollute,
I would give my breath through the symphony of the most beautiful flute.
My heart is heavy but it's been so already.
We are treading on thin ice and we grow much colder when it all breaks.
This place is so focused on ranks and defacing a nation,
burning every location where peace should be stationed.
If I could take away the pain of this acid rain raining down,
I would offer to you the only sane part of my brain
so you could see one day without rain.
I too, am in pain.
And we are the ones to blame.

- L.G.

I encourage you to become reclusive
and use this time to explore the depths of your elusive mind.
I have found immense importance in the indulgence of focus,
as I expand the space of time to let these words fall onto these lines.
This page was once a blank slate just waiting to be made
into the masterpiece of today.
What I create, will never fade away...
Like the concrete that lays in this little corner of my brain.
See, at times I can be hard-headed,
but my heart is as soft as water.
Maybe because I am a daughter that did not fall far from her father.
I was never taught to be a martyr,
but to push beyond any falter to become stronger.
I encourage you to become transparent. -
Let the light that shines through you always appear apparent.
Everything you say should reflect the mirror that stares you down straight in the eyes,
like the sparkle in the rain on winter's first day.
I have found sense in each aspect of the sentence that relieves my tension.
The attention that I give to these lessons,
is why I continue to harbor these questions.
When you are on a quest in search through all of the testing,
sometimes the answers only come when you rearrange the information you're so accustomed to ingesting.
Sometimes the answers come through the sun
as you lay asleep and the sunrise begins it's luminous cresting.

Maybe it is time to wake up...

This lipstick leaves lip prints of memories you could never rinse.
I am embedded in this.
I would never miss a line
that aligns the subliminal signs
that life often lends to me.
Send to me, undying love.
The kind of love
that comes from the clouds above, that come undone.
Rain down on me;
Clear my heart of its emotional drought.
Flood me with hope
in every moment of unwarranted doubt.

This lipstick sticks to the skin and it sinks within.
You will begin to speak me into existence,
as if you knew I was hiding from these shadows, once again.
******* thoughts as you unravel the knots
that leave me tied to your sweet sound.
We will be freely bound,
as we come alive with the tide
that always rushes back around.

This lipstick leaves a stain on the glass that I drank from
that night I allowed my heart to stay vacant,
as I explained the blatant and mistaken memories
that live in my soul's basement.

This is me, reminding you of that view.
The red lipstick that slipped over your heart
when I kissed your scars,
somehow turned blue.
But I am assured
that you already knew...

- L.G.

I carry these burdens like boulders on my shoulders.
I know your pain should not live in my heart like a placeholder.
I would never dream to speak of you in vain,
Rather, I would like to run through your veins and take away your shame and all the blame you place on your heart, so tender.
My world is trapped in a blender, and i know you want to forget, but I am here if you ever need to remember.
A heavy heart will change your walk from the start,
I've been dragged through the mud with no inspiration for art.
But that's where we depart.
I would like to travel to a place where we can unravel our battles, and free ourselves from the rattles of these shackles.
I know it sits on your chest like it lives in my mind,
And i can see it in your eyes that you wish to rewind.
But we do not have the time.
Come with me, everything will be fine.
I wish to take away your pain, show you a day without rain.
I know it costs a lot to be sane, but I bought a one way ticket and we must aboard this ongoing train..

I can't erase the place that only my mind knows.
My soul's woes know that they have a place to go.
So my tongue rolls in and out of the doubt placed within my heart.
I speak these things quietly, so that my melody never falls apart.
I am my art.
I admire the smooth beat that sings to me in my sleep;
The dreams that make me weak at the knees.
The power invested in me is sometimes, hard to believe.
It used to be impossible to see my dreams reflected in real life.
Until I realized, I had to say goodbye to the times that I chose to be blind to the light that shined directly in my eyes.
Perhaps that's why so many are blind.
It is not our darkness, but our light that leaves us afraid in the silence of night, time after time.
Maybe we never believed we could be the person we see in the epitome of our dreams.
So let me sing to you this serene theme, until you feel what it means.
If you're anything like me, sometimes you fear yourself.
The power that we hold goes beyond material wealth.
You must listen to your conscience, but first you must cleanse what's inside,
That divine mind.
It will all be fine.
Allow yourself to come alive in these dire times.
It is our time to thrive,
If you would only accept the invite.

- L.G

Crawl to me when you are down and out.
I will stand for you, in any moment of doubt.
It's cold on the floor when you're at war with yourself.
I hope you don't ever let the money stand between genuine wealth.
The wealth that is hidden behind your eyes,
the truth that obliterates all the lies,
or the strings attached to the things that needed to be tied
Together, we will make ourselves better.
If you hang on every letter,
I'll show you that the verbs are even better.
The actions and the reactions that send you the wind
in any weather.
I could be the adverb through all the words that you've heard,
and hopefully it will help you understand why
I describe my life in these rhymes through the darkest night.
If you let me share my light,
I will fight the shadows until they are covered in white.
You used to be so cold like snow in the winter.
I'm just happy you let me in that skin within,
like a splinter.
Go figure, the picture returned much bigger
when you focused.
You can't live a life solely on hope,
but don't let that leave you hopeless.
I just want you to notice the solstice that rolled in
on our fortress.
The coldest breeze will mean nothing to me.
Because when I bleed,
I recognize the warmth that is pouring out of me.
Just breathe these breaths that leave you breathless,
and i will touch your soul so gently, that your dreams will leave you restless.
We, are never senseless.
I know you sense this,
as your eyes press on the abyss,
recognizing all the things you may have missed
in the midst of the blurring mist.

- L.G.

I drip through dimensions of thorough desires.
The darkness of the disturbed and tired gave way to this blazing fire,
the flames burned higher.
I swivel through sections of saturated similes,
styles pour out of me
because I wear my heart on my sleeve.
you can wear this shirt just to see
what this world has done to me,
Complicated meanings and undeserved beatings,
we're either tied to the floor or levitating towards the ceilings.
These poetic vibrations frequently wave through the waves of my soul,
The sound of my words to your ears
is equivalent to a half note
that is made whole.
I twist through the turmoil that has been placed on my tender heart,
Digging through trenches
trying to find where we failed from the start.
I'd like to travel back in time and rearrange our future,
I could unravel my spine just to rewind your mind,
I'll put it back together with a suture.
Do not confuse my dark with a saddened song,
because I have been fighting for so long to be strong.
It's like second nature
being no stranger to the anger
that they try to inflict within me.
I shield the shadows and walk with power,
one day I will stand on the king's tower hovering over me,
screaming "it was all a dream" so loud even Biggie would hear me
and feel the heat beneath our feet.
So how could you not feel me? How could you not hear me?
Maybe a moment of silence is what you need
to retrieve the message that's buried deep
in these dimensions of delicate speech.
- L.G.

I am secluded in a silence that used to be a nuisance to me, a stubborn student.
I became diluted and muted like the t.v. screen that would stare at me; i could recognize the truancy.
Reluctantly, I started speaking my heart fluently.
It was all new to me;
Like a dream I would never see in my wildest dreams,
What a sensation to see me in the seams of my sheets, sleeping on the things that revolve around my destiny.
I am the teacher that was testing me.
I never listened, I never glistened.
I guess i was always sickened by the written cursive that curved through my tongue, inhaled to the depths of my lungs.
I was gasping for air, looking for the tear that left these words leaking from skin that was bare.
I was scared.
Now, my fear has been shriveled up and burned.
I let these letters churn like butter, my mind expanded like rubber, so much that I never wanted to tell another.
I guess i was selfish living in a shell of the sea,
But as soon as I cracked myself open, I could breathe.
I could believe.
This is me, standing on my feet.
Refusing to be anything less than the roots that anchor the trees,
Or the scars on your knees that would bleed when you would beg them to please, never steal your love and leave.
I am the veins in every leaf that left when fall arrived.
Somewhere in the bone chilling air, but you know I am still alive.
Do you believe in what you cannot see?
Because I am gone like words in the midst of silence, but I hope you learn to believe in me
Like how I once believed I could never be the words that you see,
But I am here, walking differently.
There's a different tone in my voice.
I speak me, fluently.

Whisper to me, your withheld words.
You don't have to be a victim of a world unheard.
The way your tongue curved through the blurred lines of your mind,
made me want to jump inside and become intertwined with time.
You never choose to be blind.
Like the reason to my rhymes,
you never declined an invite to dance in the darkness of night.
Whisper in my ear, your deepest desires.
Look into my eyes, slowly fall into the fire.
We must shine brighter.
Hold on tighter to the signals on the wire.
Whisper in my ear, the sweetest melody.
You do not have to be a victim of insincerity.
I wonder if you will see through me,
in this moment of clarity.
You reflected off the waves of the sea,
and apparently, you became a crystallized transparency.
Whisper to me, your fondest memories.
I want to know everything...
(even the words that are trapped in your parentheses.)
Sing to me, a soulful beat.
Embody all the places we could be
as the fires rise in the black pits of my eyes,
swiftly melting from the heat.

- L.G.

I guess I'm at a point where it's hard to accept the fact that these facts aren't always facts, something like a trap in an acid bath. We all feel the rath but refuse to do the math, with no plan of attack to give more than we lack. Our world is a black cat, and we still blame it all on bad luck.
How many times have we said that this life just simply isn't enough? I guess there's simplicity in giving up, and that specifically stems from a gut of empty authenticity. We ARE electricity, but instead of honing in on ourselves, we fixate on the T.V. screen. It makes me want to scream, honestly.
I'm so sick of the mean hearted schemes that are believed to be what we "need". The generation of children that don't even know what it means to claim how they want to be seen.
We lack ownership.
To be real is to keep your soul clean in a ***** room, to bloom through all of this rain and the gloom, to never doom another person, because you have never walked in their shoes. You dive in the chemically toxic pool, and drown others for being "thirsty". I think we are all parched for some mercy on this journey. We cannot demand perfection when we, ourselves, could never be worthy. I guess I'm just in a hurry to correct a vision that remains so blurry. I guess I'm in a vortex of complex rejects who think it's best to neglect the steps to reach an untouched depth.
Hold your respect, I am not done yet.
I guess this life runs through my pen. I might run out of ink before I reach the end, because I feel myself talking to these lines like they're my only friends. I guess I'm saying that I think people pretend because they don't know how to ascend beyond energies that only suspend.
If I could lend you peace of mind, I would crack my veins all over these lines,
seal it in an envelope, and you could read behind my eyes. I guess you would be surprised that sometimes these words only flow like water because I cry at the sight of the world's demise.

- L.G.