I know two kinds of people
There are those who make a frame for themselves
One beautiful and exquisite
And then inside they stay in it
And those who chose to say
Not only am I art but so is everything around me
And my job is discovery

Creating music is so beautiful because in most cases it requires human breath
You give it something that is yours
Something that rested near you heart
And sat on your soul
If filled you
And you use it to fill others
To touch their hearts
To speak to their souls
Music is alive because you make it so
There is nothing robotic or ordinary about it
It's a living breathing thing
Music is a part of you
Your heart pumps to a beat
The veins pulse the same way
You literally have rhythm flowing through your veins
Do you realize you are a creation of rhythm and music
And culmination of gorgeous pulses and beats
The blood carries oxygen to your cells
That oxygen brings sound to your instrument
That blood courses with a beat
We are all made of music
All music is made of us

I seem to have this problem
Where I think too hard or not at all
I overanalyze overthink over complicate
But moments later zone out at the wall
A read into what should be left alone
And lose focus on conversations that should be heard
I make a big deal out of nothing
Later I miss your every word
I space responsibilities and events
But can't forget how self conscious I feel
I think too hard about a lot of things
Especially emotional wounds I wish could heal
Whoever stole the in between
I could really use it back
Those moments of deep thought
Filled the void leaving me not to lack
An excitement for life, free spirit, or light heart
Keeping me steady and sure
And return my focus on what matters most
To be able to hear through all the chatter

I ordered a Polaroid camera
And bought some film and filled it
I brought it up toward my brown eye
Squinted and the room I lit
The flash so strong the smiles so real
The little white photo snook out
A moment not only frozen but hidden
White, hushed voices trying to shout
Slowly the moment came back
The scene melted back into place
The people came back even brighter
The smiles returned to each face
And I wondered what makes a Polaroid different
What gives the physical photo more appeal
Why do we care so much for something to hold
Why are flash and film a big deal
I don't think it's in the style
In its retroness or thrill
I don't think it's in the speed
You wait for it a little
I believe in that small photo
In that something you can hold
You think what is in the palm of your hand
One could not possibly unmold
That moment is for ever
The smile evermore
No matter the time that passed
No matter how long before
There's something about holding it
That's makes you think you can have it forever
That somehow you'll freeze time
That somehow time isn't so clever
You feel you have time in your two hands
The control with small fingers
That this wouldn't slip from your grip
That those grins would always linger
Although it may not be so
And cameras aren't time benders
They bring you back and forth
Through the memories they render
So maybe holding on tighter  
Doesn't do a thing
But having it to hold
Just may give you wings

In my mind you'd see frosted windows
Deep thoughts on chilly nights
overcast skies in midday
Mauve grey black and white
Puddles that fill potholes
and stars a mile above your crown
Forests of enchanting pine trees
Vivid cities and abandoned towns
Winter and blinding snowstorms
Mountains jagged yet soft and pink
Rivers and lakes and oceans
Lyrics that force you to think
It's soberness and possibility
A serene drive in silent streets
Independence and stability
Fallen leaves that parade the streets
Thoughts that wander as you do
Buses filled with empty seats
Open fields and morning dew
The first ray of light at as you awake
Simplicity warmth and elegance
And the rhythm of the breaths you take


The essential components are the spaces
The emptiness and silence
It is not a lack or void to fill
Simply memories with traces
The space and vacancy inside
Leaves room for inspiration
Gives new thoughts their proper places
Lost in thought
Lost in my mind
Lost in the stars dew and fields
but not blind
Lost in the analogy
But I've never lost my way
Accustomed to each reality
One foot in each doorway

Don't you ever get tired of the show you put on
Or did you begin to think it was real
Do you ever get bored of lies you live
Or did you begin to think they were the truth
The only truth you have you steal
Too much an actress
Too much a fool
Too full of youth
Naïve by choice
For its **appeal

I feel as though my mind has become confetti
Thrown across the room
I can't direct it or control where it lands
I can't control or plan
My mind meanders on its own going where I wish it would not go
I try and pick up the confetti and bring it back together
I try and gather my thoughts
And instead they become deeper
I cannot focus them where I want and they're uncontrolled and cluttered
I wish to start over clear and content
But the confetti has already been thrown
It's fine in the air
It's mixed with everything around it
And nothing can undo it
How unfair