"Enjoy your own company"
Is easy advice
When it isn't the only option.

"Learn to love yourself"
Is a lot easier
When you aren't the only source.

We are social creatures
But maybe there's a reason
The most successful say they're lonely.
Maybe coming to believe
Evolution has finally grown beyond
The measly confines of needing others
Is our inevitable future.

Or maybe,
Now is just a season
To be in your own company
So the next will be so much more appreciated.

Isn't it beautiful
How the most vivid colors and scenes
Can be created from
Only the black and white on a page?
Movement, harmonies, blends of hues
Described with only memories wished from a writer to you.

Why do I convince myself
I'm not alone anymore
When as soon as I believe it
I'm left behind?

It doesn't happen every day
And it's not particularly remarkable
But it's these kinds of days
That feel remarkably perfect.

The simplicity in the ordinary
Finding sparks of happiness in that in-between
Standing on edges, making something grand of what is seen:
At dusk and dawn,
There is light in both.

They say to not let things bottle up
But how do I release it with no one to listen?
Screaming into the void does nothing
When the words need somewhere to land.

Alone, it builds up
And it leaks from my heart
In comments and glances and that deep aching pain
You can't, or refuse, to see
You never ask about me.

Now that I look back, you never did.
Even when I asked about you.

So now I scream into the void
But the noise takes shape
As words on paper
And sometimes, someone listens
But even if no one does
I can pretend you'll see it.
And in my imagination
Maybe I can pretend
It helps me heal.

Sometimes, in the corner of my eye
There is that glimmer
Threads of the Fate's tapestry
They weave their glistening strands
With gnarled knuckles, worn hands
Between clouds and in the dappling light under leaves.

I see the crimson red of fall
So barely visible, the golden spider's web
Brightening into the stark white of snow
And on and on and on -

Between time,
Between lives,
Isn't there beauty in the mystery of our futures
Known to fate
And only yet to be spun?

Oh do you know how it feels
To be the tree that falls in a wood
With no one to hear it?

Was it even there to begin with?

What is said in the unspoken?
In shared glances
In messages deleted
In letters left in the bedside tables and
Notes left in the backs of drawers

Pens with ink that haven't been bled
And pages empty, wishing they could say
The message you think but won't put down
Or say aloud

But I can hear in the spoken pauses
The extra breath between sentences
The stutter in your words

Can you read between the lines
See behind the camera lens
Hear the chord missing from the harmony?
Are these audible pauses
Or am I the fool, listening to silence
As it speaks volumes?

There is such beauty in a blank page
Waiting to be decorated,
Or marred

Black streaks dashed hurriedly
Dark and bold upon its face,

Putting shape to the emptiness
Light into the darkness,

The breaking of silence

Like running out into an open field of snow-
The vastness of the front lawn so huge
To little toddler feet
Plowing forward into the crystalline stillness
Shattering it, with sudden life
Joyful cries, wind, movement
Loud and wild life
Out of nothing, out of silence.
There is beauty, in the waiting
Of a blank page.

If you knew me well,
You would already know:
Every word has been written
In each moment with you alone.

Sometimes I look back upon the wreckage
The boards are warping already from the salt seeping in,
The unrelenting heat of the sun
Those that are still above the surface, anyway.

There are some pieces of color -
A scrap of fabric, rope, plastic, remnants of a life
Which has been so wholly dismantled
I don't know how many times over
By the storms that came back, again and again
To make sure it hadn't missed a thing.

I am surprised I am here
Though I don't recognize where 'here' is
I continue to float, and watch, and wait
Until there is something new on the horizon

We will survive.
Shipwreck after shipwreck
Of anger, of pain, of grief, unrelenting
Unbearable
Until the waves part,
And breaths lengthen,
And you realize the sirens' call has quieted

You are safe enough, and all at once,
You can begin to swim again,
And reach out into the sea.

How lucky you must be
Without even realizing
To have enjoyed the fruits of my labor
As I fooled myself into thinking
You really cared for me.

How lucky I thought I was
To be appreciated
As I was ignored
To be respected
As you talked behind my back
To be trusted
As you hid from me
Until the curtain finally fell
And I realized you didn't know me at all.

How many times will I fool myself
Into thinking someone cares
When they never ask.

How many times must I be judged
Without being allowed to plead my case
Until I see the jury is rigged.

How many friends must I make
How many lives will I build
On a foundation I pour
Alone.
Only to realize after the house collapsed
That I was the only one who lived there.

I go through life with pebbles in my pockets
Walking alone through the storms with my raincoat on
Sand sinks between my toes on beaches,
A cool breeze flows against my cheek under forest trees
And my jacket hangs down with the weight of rocks
In those big wide pockets at my sides.

I pull them out, hold them in my palm
Pick out a piece of seaglass to admire in the sunlight
Set aside one perfectly smooth;
I'll send it skipping on the next lake I find.

Some are beautiful,
Some come with cold dirt that reminds me exactly where it once laid,
Some are scuffed from days, years, of scrapes and hits
And I no longer remember why I picked them up at all.

But as I walk,
Across regions and eons and ranges
I keep some and toss some
Though I'm always adding more.

The memories come with me,
And day after day,
I do my best
To leave the heaviest stones in the miles behind
I try keep my pockets light.

When we learned about redshift, years ago
A classroom full of bored teenagers waiting to graduate
I found comfort in the idea that
Nothing mattered
Every decision in my future laid so small in the palms of the universe.

A lifetime seems so bare
Featherweight
Against the stark backdrop of stars constantly shifting
As the world we know expands
Without stopping
Unending
Beyond our perception.

Some thought it morbid. Others, a source of fear -
In an ever-expanding sea, who would notice if they drowned?
In such a vast forest, who would hear the tree fall?

Instead, I thought:
I alone can make the tree grow, and whether it falls or not,
No one and nothing will interfere, no one need remember,
But me.

Relax. The Universe is expanding.

I remember how it felt
When all the pieces fit together
When I felt it couldn't be more perfect
And I could bear any weather,
And slowly, each piece was stripped away
Like a house on fire-
I watched it burn and collapse
Room by room
An inferno.
It left nothing behind
But myself, and my pride.
When it was dug out of the rubble
I glimpsed it buried from the sidewalk
The metal twisted, charred in places
But I tucked it in my pocket.
I'll keep walking down my street
(Though it isn't mine anymore)
Until I find a new town to be a part of-
Maybe a home once more.

I felt offended when she asked me
Even though it was the same question I had been asking myself
Back and forth in my head, for months
Because wasn’t the answer so clear?

It was startling, how potent my reaction was
I answered with my whole chest
In a way I hadn’t been able to speak in the mirror
Sometimes only being tested will reveal the answer.

Even if you don't speak to me
I will still stand listening.
Even if you refuse to hear me
I will still sing.
Even as you close your eyes to every word I write
I will keep writing.
Just because you wish to erase the memory of me
I will keep my own space
If for no one else
But myself.

I miss who I used to think I was
When I loved myself
In ignorant bliss
Of my flaws, and the mistakes I had yet to make.

As I've grown older, I've come to know myself better
And I can't say if I've liked the change.
But I'm stuck here with me, for better or for worse
So we will bear the growing pains

From old me, to new me
Pretending to shift while staying the same
Fooling myself with the same name
Unable to decipher these blaming games

Who or what is responsible for how I turned out
I don't know
But I know I'm not who I thought I'd be, at twenty-three
At least I still have hope that time will make up the difference.

Words can always carry a message
To me, from me,
Even once the messenger is gone.
Stories and legends will always persist,
Not to judge but to inspire
Not to compare struggle, but instead to lift higher
Those few and many stuck in despair
On the shoulders of those who came before.

Because if they did it,
I can do it too.
And one day,
I'll be a story
For the next unredeemed who sits in this chair
Discouraged, alone, and tired
And tomorrow, like me,
They'll no longer be sitting there.

I have mended my soul
The splintering cracks
Painted them with gold
I fear will fade into brass.

I have sewn up my heart
The rough, jagged tears
With threads of silk gossamer
Becoming tattered with wear.

It should bring some solace
That it is part of the art
For these kinds of things
To keep breaking apart.

Readers, writers
Are a company who finds comfort
In the worlds we build for ourselves
And for others
Seeking solace when we have no comfort left
In the world around us.

I drive home
Past the same highway markers
I envisioned in my dreams, in the hours driving here
Waiting and waiting for the road north to turn west
Slowly narrowing
Until I'm on my street
In my driveway
I reach the door,

No one's home. The lights are off
I look outside, the tree in the front yard
Lies dead. Not dormant
I know it won't flower in the spring
No one has been caring for it

The dishwasher is full
The clutter on the table
A photo of it all would sound like footsteps coming down stairs
This isn't the way I pictured it.
None of my future is the way I dreamed, as a kid
Life left me on hold
And the music is giving me a headache
I can't wish away the silence.

I can only watch the past form around me
Like concrete burying my feet
Pouring, pouring, up around my knees -
I know it in my bones, I will be buried in this house
Or at least, some important part of me
Will never leave

As my body continues forward, trudging
The parts who were hurt, fatally wounded
Will stay here. I'll be buried in the yard
With no one to mark a grave
Flowers won't be left, and none will grow
I've been left in this wretched place,
I used to call home.

Screaming
I let the noise take shape
Forming something out of nothing
In a mindless run, a sprint
A stream of consciousness, of thoughts, of dreams, of pain
Endless and rushing
Until I am spent and empty

Like a reservoir when the dam has been opened
I pour everything I've had left
Until I have space to breathe
And silence to think
So I wait as it fills again, slowly
And the dam will open again.

The beauty of a sunset and sunrise
Is the wash of night that wipes everything clean.
The long hours between:
When you can't see your hand before your eyes
You can't see the mistakes left lying at your feet
And in the golden dawn
Even broken glass and aging decay looks beautiful.

The silhouette of mountain ranges glow softly in the distance
Across the vast expanse...
In the morning, you can start walking in any direction,
Until you decide you've gone far enough.

At your feet the ground is new, untouched
Undisturbed tracks of animals and others unseen
Living around you, before you
So you can try to walk again
To live again
Like them.

Maybe this time
With not so many mistakes left in your tracks.
And if not -
There is always the next morning.

I wish I could do it over again
But at least let me live vicariously through you
Stopping you from making my mistakes
Celebrating your joys
Being proud of your successes
I can love you from afar
How I wish I was loved
Watch you fly
With my clipped wings.

Maybe I'll join you when I heal
But for now, I can only see the sky
Through your eyes.

From just below the surface
Reflections of dreams and nightmares
Lay on each side of the mirror.

I wipe the fog from the window
And look through
To see myself.

My bed is cold
Even as I burrow deeper into the sheets
Waiting for spring
With the flower buds buried on the windowsill.

I can't tell if I'm asleep or awake
As I drift
The numbness, the quiet
Is peaceful.

When the sun rises
I will stir
And unearth from the soil
Blooms which have been waiting, so patiently
To show the brilliance
Hiding below the surface.

The words in my head
Sometimes aren't my own
Angels and devils, I hear them both
Mostly late at night or when I'm all alone
Holding onto something
Waves crashing in an ocean
Trees falling, no one around them
To hear the screams.

Sometimes all you have to live for
Is what you have to hope for.
And what you once held on to
Leaves you stranded in a moment

But you have to trust that life comes in seasons
And the love you once had
Just may, just might, someday
Come find you again.

A picture is worth a thousand words
But only if you can read between the lines
There is meaning in the shadows, but one you must choose to find
A picture disrespected by descriptors
As if it only holds what you can see
But if you could read between the lines
Maybe you could find me.

Sand is running through my fingertips
Course on my skin, grating
As I watch it pass by, I feel it land heavy on my feet
Already buried under the weight of what I've missed.
And what I'm missing
As I'm trapped to my knees
In all my wishes and old dreams
They seem so naive
But you know what happens to the best-laid plans.

I don’t know when I stopped
Seeking destruction
Or at least,
Stopped pursuing struggle
For the sake of overcoming
And instead
Sought destruction
Within myself.

Where did the spark go
That inner steel
That piece that searched for fire
In which to be forged?

I used to burn and chip away at my flaws
Working to expel all of my impurities
But I think I got carried away
And somehow too much of myself has gone.

When did I see joy
In what now gives only
Pain
When it overwhelms
I am primed to fly
Flight before fight
As my younger self would have done

Where did she go?
I must call her back
Maybe the clanging steel will ignite a fire
She can be persuaded to warm herself beside.

I dream of a neighbor waving when I pull in the driveway
We talk **** and sip wine or whiskey late into the evening
We do this every day, and every day we both need it
But their face keeps on changing, in my review
In the morning

I look in my phone for a number that's not there
The one I always call when I'm tearing out my hair
But every time I find the slip of paper, it disappears
The numbers keep deleting from my phone if I don't stare

I can't help but think it's because of the mistakes I made
Maybe that's because it's what they said to my face
Old ones I never knew until they got dragged out of the dark
The dust blown off so you could stack them on the new shelves that you built

I look in the backseat, 600 miles from town
Searching for the faces who at one time I had found
But the seats are empty, only my packed bag
And I still remember when this car was loud
Used to feel like a family even if you weren't around

But as time goes on
I'm told to think of gratitude
For where I'm at now,
For the memories I can diffuse
Maybe make them last, like a hard candy you refuse to chew
Keep the flavors in my mouth
From when I used to know you

And the road looks the same, though the wind screams twice as loud
As before, when I was alone, driving through these empty towns
But I thought when I came back here, I'd bring a village packed in my car
We'd take turns driving, instead I'm sleeping on the shoulder

So when I wake, and when I sleep
I turn the radio up loud
To drown out my silent phone and the unspoken words in my mouth
I wonder at the scenery
The beauty means a lot to me
I know you would've liked to see it too.

Prisms of colored glass
When shone through all together
Make a mingling mural of design
Beautiful, angry, kind, tender
But one look at each piece
Each one is completely different from the next
The side you see written, published, speaking, standing
Are all different views than the rest
How do you know a whole person?
How many views do you need?
How many visions have you shared with friends,
How many are left within yourself to see?

It's all around me, yet I couldn't point it out to you
It's too dark to see it surrounding me
I can see the shapes, but I know to you they're only shadows
Tell me, is it the dark or the light that is the illusion -
Are these merely shadows in the sun
Or moonlight cutting through the dark?
Can you see it?
Nothing here is clear to me.

I know in my heart
I have already crossed the Rubicon
And my course is set, with no way to return
The river only flows downhill
And I am on it, for better or for worse
Come hell or high water

Even if it drags me to the depths, smothers me
My body will be taken to the mouth of the river
To the doorstep of the sea

Every morning I am made to sign
To decide again, to recommit
Allowing myself to fall
I see the ports and docks along the shore, but know
My heart is already in the sea
There is no decision
But to follow.

Writing feels like painting with the widest brush
Making out shapes and forms on a vast canvas.
I like to sketch out stories like the scaffolding for a house
The framework for a window
The braces for a great tower
But to leave enough blank space for anyone to color it in.

Creations of their own fitting between the lines
Too specific and the details are overwhelming
But just vague enough to hint at beauty,
Light cresting over hilltops with golden glimmers of wheat
Vast waves forming in the dawn of a rising day
But the town, the colors, the city of people are made
In your image, dear reader,
Dear dreamer
You, writer.

I am neither here nor there, in
Limbo, my next step postponed
Stranded halfway across the river
I lean down to taste the water
It is full of salt.

Forty nights and forty days
But there is no sign of rain
Or what comes after.

I wonder if I am meant to wait for the ferryman
Or if, when the tide releases me
I’ll walk to Hades myself
Led, trapped
This path the only left open before me.

Would you rather forgive
Knowing you had been wronged
Than stand by your righteousness
And remain alone at the top
Separating yourself out of penance for your mistakes
And separating from others out of intolerance for theirs?

Are you really at the top, then?
And is the view really worth it
When it can’t be shared?

Isn’t the point of forgiveness to give grace for mistakes
Those out of ignorance
And those out of negligence?
If it wasn’t truly hurtful
It wouldn’t need help to heal.

The deeper the hurt, the more effort it takes
To preserve
And rebuild
A home you can save.

Don’t mistake our “true colors”
From what truly are simple mistakes.
Don’t assume malice
When ignorance is to blame.
We are all human in our missteps and stumbles.
Don’t be fooled into thinking you’re the only agile hunter
In a world of clumsiness, of scrapes and falls.

Silence is either the most devastating or the most comforting:

When you scream into the void,
Afraid to hear your own echo,
Comfort is found in the grasp of anonymity.

Yet when you listen for a voice,
None will sound familiar,
For who can respond to ghosts but their own kind?

The gravel is quiet under my kicking feet,
Pebbles glance off my toes, just above the ground
I'd imagine it's loud in the silence
But I have headphones in with nothing playing
Listening to the idea of sound:
I like it a little muffled, so only whispers come through.
It's just enough;
Enough of what, I couldn't explain.

The wind nips at my cheeks, reminding me of a puppy
Playful even as it scratches my ears.
I wish I could warm up with
A drink, or a cigarette
But I don't do that anymore,
Even if it's the only thing I know could keep me warm
Sitting on this bench, with no one coming.

I'm warm enough.

Life is made delightful by its paradoxes
And infuriating in its contradictions.

Those who find their identity in sacrifice
Treasure the moments when others offer their own.

Those who take and take
Are forever left searching for something useful to give.

Those who think of themselves as small
Play such a large part in the lives around them.

Those who are so self-important
Often have an audience full of sneaky glances towards the clock.

Those who love company
Crave for their time alone to be respected.

Those who want to be alone
Want genuine human connection.

Those who talk too little
Have so much left to say.

Those who talk too much
Often keep what is most important to themselves.

Those who take pictures
Want to truly be seen.

Those in the spotlight
Desire unbroken privacy.

Those who are trusting
Are too often trapped.

Those who seek tripwires
Spurn the unlocked doors within their grasp.

For those who give love
It is not always returned.

But those who love themselves
Untwist both halves
To find a heart left pure.

Change
Jangling in my pocket
Causing such a racket
Coins are such a nuisance.

I pull a few out
With a clang, my soda drops down
I open it
It fizzes
I drink.

It's hot in the sun
But cold in the shade, when the breeze blows
I feel the air sting my lungs
In my memory, it's always fall, here.

The leaves don't crunch on the ground
It rained last night, though I didn't hear it
Not because my head was too loud
But because I turned my comedies up
So I could finish washing the dishes
As I listened.

I wish I could turn it off
And be happy with being alone
No longer wish for connections
Stop wanting the things that hurt me.

I am happy alone
But I would be happier if I wasn't
And seeing the empty space beside me
Has made all the difference.

It distracts from the view
Though I wish it didn't
And even if I don't look, I can hear it, in the silence
I wish I could be happier alone.

I must be red-green colorblind
To miss the signs I'm driving by
Pressing the gas as the road gets slicker
Rain and pain splattering onto the windshield
I can see the pain coming
If I breathe too deep, I feel the stitch in my side
I'm getting weaker
I'm too drawn in to fight, to pull away
I want to stay,
I want you to stay -

I can see the crash and ambulance lights up ahead
Minutes before they arrive
911 is on speed-dial, the bystanders on standby

Maybe I'll hold my breath
Just to watch the world burn
Moving into the smoke
Breathing deeper for the hell of it

Straining to hear whispers,
A last cry, or a word
Maybe it's a death rattle
Maybe it's a yell for her

Maybe I've tried enough, I know it'll hurt
Maybe my only chance
Is to watch the world burn.

Maybe the only thing keeping me alive
Is to hope that one day,
I'll walk through the flames
I'll be glad I had tried.

As the flowers died
I remembered the joy, shared between us
I was surprised, and it almost shocked you
How happy the small gesture made me.

As the flowers wilted
I wished for new ones to replace them
As if replacing them would instead heal them
And bring the colors back fresh and new.

As the flowers died
I didn't clean them up
I left the petals where they fell,
Lit candles to cover the sickly sweet, rotting smell
Because I was the only one who could smell them anyway.
There really weren't any flowers there.

Isn't there tragedy
In sacrificing yourself for other's beauty?
In stepping back from the spotlight
Because another craves it more.
They are also beautiful,
But the eyes of the audience never pass by a second time.
You find solace in capturing moments through the lens
Holding them in your hands
You stay behind the camera
Ever the watching, never the watched
Unseen until it's published
And read to the end.

Is it selfish to want to be less selfless, if only to be seen?

It is still surprising how painful it is
The ripping of roots, nested deep in fertile soil
Leaving great gaps under the surface
Pulling up clumps which refuse to let go

Is there a purpose to repeating this pain?
Why nest so deeply in a place,
Under the faint glow of a time clock
Its ticking pervading every dream
Knowing there will be an end?

Walking through my favorite city
Cobblestones, brick, pastry scents, coffee mugs clinking
I see the end of the street approaching
And I do not slow
I do not know if I can, even if I wanted to.

As I turn the corner
I leave it all behind,
This new street is quiet, and foreign, and dim.
But as I walk, I notice more
And my roots take hold again anyway.

Through every city, down every street
The journey holds its meaning in
What you see, what you hear,
The moments and memories
Are not meant to last,
But to be remembered.

It is exhausting, isn't it?
To keep walking,
To keep trying.

But there is nothing left to do but try, anyway -
Whether you stay or rise,
It won't change
How much time has passed,
How fast time is passing,
So I might as well get up.

See the beauty of the flowers
Those left to the wild, to the whims of the world
Unassisted by earthly hands
How relentlessly beautiful they grow.

Hear the birds, singing proudly
Free and flying high
And remember that despite their struggles
They are taken care of, as you will be.

Are you not, at least,
As beautiful as a flower
Do you not
Have words as important as the birds
If not more so?
For you are one of Abraham's stars in the sky
You will be comforted.

Spirit is present even when I don't feel it
I am present even when I can't feel anything.
The food I cook still tastes good
Even if I can't taste it.
The words I read contain great stories
No matter how much the lines are blurred by tears.
The sunset is still beautiful
Despite its evasion in every photo
And the sunrise is even more beautiful still.

They, on her shoulders
The child, and the older
Manipulative and scheming, plotting to point out
Every flaw in the artistry
Every wasted second, every fear

She wishes to give every
Benefit of the doubt, assuage every tear
Every anxiety to be released,
Anger and angst held back

But she protects the child
And sometimes, she's wrong
These overprotective anxieties can cause harm
But every time she's persuaded
It only took time, for the voices on her shoulders
Are the only ones who do not lie.