Abandon your thoughts to keep your mind blank;
bare like the walls of a dental office;
clear like a polished mirror.
Don’t let anything back in,
even the thought of your aging mom -
forget her impending mortality.
Grasp you love for him because
Hurt can come from even the lightest places.
Ignore the world’s problems,
just focus on “empty”.
Keep your mind like space,
let there be nothing, not even air.
Make your plan now,
neglect anything other than this plan.
Oblivion will welcome you now,
Pure Spirit. Put this plan into action
quickly, before the feelings
return to ******* over.
Spotless.
Trigger step one and fill your pistol:
unload it into your brain.
****** mind now dead,
white unconsciousness harbors.
Xylographed onto the coffin:
“Young but no longer sad”.
Zen at long last.

A view of you only these eyes can see,
As lungs do fill and fall, to give and bring,
New life to me, as dreams may hear me sing.
But just for now, enamoured hope runs free.
Two destined paths amalgamate as we,
Plunge into bold, foolhardy happenings.
Le grande cascade. Vintgar. A constant spring,
That never stops sprouting abundantly.

But hurried mornings twist and bend my heart,
To expedite the time I must derail
My consciousness and fall back to the start,
To dreams of distance lost so I can't fail.
To find my thrill, admiring breath, like art;
The rise and fall of life and it's details.

Who am I?
I am whatever they want
me to be.
Which means I'm me,
but not me.
A different version of me.
That is what I am,
but not the version I want to be.

One. The "Church Me".
Two. The "School Me".
Three. The "Work Me".
Four. The "Home Me".
Five. The "Real Me". Who is She?
These are the versions of me.

It's so hard to stop the bleeding
together of the versions of me.
The "Church Me" would never
accept the "Real Me".
The "Work Me" would cancel out
the "School Me".
And the "Home Me",
just doesn't fit.

There's too many versions.
Too many.
I,
need to delete
the lies.
I need to
Delete, Delete, Delete, Delete
the versions of me.

Tell me.
What would happen if
one of the 'Me's' deleted was
The "Real Me"?

Who Would I Be?

In pages of prose I have removed all, and stand before you, naked and exposed

Nothing hidden, so study me well, but know I am vulnerable now

Pay special attention to the scars on my heart

If you look very close, you will see, a void where your love should be