I’ve spent my day doing nothing
Just nothing at all
Feeling what it’s like to life with myself
Without the cover up of something to do
Somewhere to go, or something to buy.

Only pacing around
Feeling the moments
Of emptiness that lives in between
The spaces of things I’ve already done
Waiting for another thing to come along

Some time does pass fast
Most minutes melt slow
Like a candle’s wax
Burning low

I’ve noticed
When the candle is blown out
The candle still looks the same
The only change
Was the atmosphere.
Then suddenly my fear
Of productivity
Disappears, and fades away
Traveling like smoke,
Making it’s way to my ceiling
Then I get this feeling
That everything is alright
I’ll be just fine.

Some time does pass fast
Most minutes melt slow
Like a candle’s wax
burning low

I love the smell of the once was a flame
It reminds me of a birthday
After a wish is made
Sometimes I wonder where all those wishes go
Or the one’s we paid for in the fountain.

Early on
I was taught
Happiness can be bought.

No more wishing in the fountains
Off of cakes, or stars,
Anything I want to be
Cultivates from me.

Anything I want to be
Cultivates from me.

Happy face
Heavy heart
Master of words
But where to start?
All the things I could say
To make you stay
But our minds have decided for us today.

We speak
But who listens?
When we are pointed in every direction
It’s hard to navigate our own voice
When our internal compass broke
Many miles ago.
We would replace it
But some of us prefer to stay lost
Living by the signs others give.

Adults find it difficult to speak their truth
We could learn from our children
Who are confident in what they know.
Though their experience is little
Their answers are primal
Driven by instinct
Not what others will think.
In this case, less could be more.

More importantly, what they know is good enough
Sometimes not having all information
Does not make us ignorant
But willing to risk.

Life has no guarantees;
Even in the things that say what they mean
There beholds the possibly
It could lie or cheat.

When we rely on one answer
Our limitations are just that number.
The logic passed down
Is we should have a plan
Beg for a challenge
Say, my plan are no plans!

Live in the present
See what unfolds
You might be surprised by what was planned all along.

I learn things the hard way
I know myself well
Enough to know that part of me won’t change

Some days feel like a self-started war
Between my feet meeting the and floor
It says, no
You won’t stand
But my mind insists and persists
Until I’m out of bed
And through the door.


If I look back at my past pain
From the view I stand in the present
I can see was for a greater purpose
And I wouldn’t dare change a single thing
Because it brought me to something enlightening.

So I write it all down, make it a song, and sing
Hoping the rhymes will help me
Not forget my new insight I know now.
Then a few weeks later
Don’t ask me how
I swear it’s like the pain or the pen scribbling on the page
Ever happened
Because for the life of me
I forget what I told myself to remember…

It’s a hilarious tragedy
Because I don’t meet the criteria to be insane
Even though I feel crazy.
I ask myself
How I have short term memory at 23?
Or maybe there exists a side of my personality
I am unwilling or not ready to see
That I am *******
Why the hell else
Would I repeat this same pain?

Some results are just not capable of change
So far I have found that a fire will always burn
But for some reason I continue to hold fire
In the palm of my hand.

One things is for sure,
I am obviously in the need for control and command.

I took the same course
Using that old coping source
Hoping it wouldn’t be the same result
I am aware I do this
But my therapist says it’s
Progress not perfection….

Like I said in the beginning
I learn things the hard way
I know myself well
Enough to know that part of me won’t change.

It might not progress or perfection, but at least it’s consistent.

I'm a leader
Not a pleaser
I do things in the name of Me.

If some stories and poetry were so brave to tell me their truth, which I can relate to, maybe I could write something to save somebody.

Maybe, maybe.

I lack the bravery. It’s scary to show vulnerability in a world of people wearing metal masks, acting as if they have it all together.

I once told a woman at my work, “You know, I cry every night because I know I got problems, but I’m surrounded by people who pretend they have no problems at all. I think they need the most help because they don’t even know they need help.”

She just smiled and laughed, and said, “Oh, I hear you.”

For a moment I knew she understood what I meant.

I connected with her.

The desire is to connect with everyone, but instead of focusing on the “every”, which can seem overwhelming, I can focus on connecting with just that “one”.

Isn’t that what those authors I admire did as well? From their words I felt connected to them, and I am considered as “one”.

Why else do we post our work? Sure, I can say it feels great to process in written form, but the act of sharing the works sends the underlying message that I want to be heard and understood, by at least just one.

Interesting thoughts...
Who knows, I could be totally wrong.

The last thing I will say,
Remove the metal mask from your beautiful face.
Don’t be surprised if water cascades.
Your mask was a great shield,
But it's time to remove it
Let your face be revealed.