You are the music while the music lasts,
If it can flow through your body
If you let it surge out of your mouth and fingertips
Then allow it to explode from your soul
Or coax it to whisper from your lips
The music will dance for you like a charmed snake
Caress the ears and minds of your audience
And open the eyes of their hearts.
For music is emotion put into sound,
Inducing tears and laughter, smiles and sympathy
And you know, no matter how you sing,
Even if you hit a few sour notes,
It only matters that you feel the music.
So long a as you feel it, enjoy it, let it overcome you
The music will make itself great.
And after you fall from the trance, back into the real world,
After the last notes and chords leave your instrument,
If your audience silently pauses before suddenly exploding in applause and cheers,
You know you have done well.
Just let it fill your bones.

I used to pull sharp metal across my legs
Rarely, only on occasion
Whenever I was so desperate to feel something and I couldn't feel happiness so I chose pain
I've not chosen this particular brand of pain in a while
But I have other alternatives
I've never brought an open flame to curl against my skin like the folds of a blanket
Nor have I beaten myself with my own fists or struck out against some hard surface to bloom purple and green flowers on my skin
No, I have other alternatives.
I take showers so hot my skin reddens like a boiled lobster
I dig my nails into my palms and arms and legs to leave armies of pale crescent impressions
I bite my lip, the inside so that no one can see the sore and near-torn flesh
I scrape my nails against my back, arms, legs, chest, stomach, leaving red lines like from the claws of a tiger
I sing sad songs, difficult songs, loud songs, songs to make my throat hurt from exertion and holding back tears
And that may seem to be the least harmful or all these but its not
It can't be when it reopens my old battle wounds and makes my throat so raw that the tears burn even more
And all of these alternatives don't mar my skin permanently
But I can't help but wonder if they're really all that much better
Because I still want to feel

In the hour of death, after this life’s whim,
When the heart beats low, and the eyes grow dim,
And pain has exhausted every limb—
  The lover of the Lord shall trust in Him.

When the will has forgotten the lifelong aim,
And the mind can only disgrace its fame,
And a man is uncertain of his own name—
  The power of the Lord shall fill this frame.

When the last sigh is heaved, and the last tear shed,
And the coffin is waiting beside the bed,
And the widow and child forsake the dead—
  The angel of the Lord shall lift this head.

For even the purest delight may pall,
And power must fail, and the pride must fall,
And the love of the dearest friends grow small—
  But the glory of the Lord is all in all.

you make me want to listen
to all those silly love songs
that I learned to love
and each song reminds me of
a different person's name
...
well
they used to
now they're all yours
and so am i.

A word was never spoke but it was felt within his heart
That he had to leave with his life restarted.
He took the train down the  rails of the unknown
And went with the directions that were shown.

He sat on the far left towards the back
and he watched the trees as the wind attacked
making the leaves fall to the ground
making them spin round and round.

One leaf hit the window obscuring his view
but he didn't mind for there was nothing to do.
He thought he heard a whisper and he looked every which way
but no one spoke a word for there was nothing to say.

He heard it again and thought he was mad
he tried to ignore but he's a curious lad.
"Who speaks?" he questioned "Who speaks just now"
but he was greeted with silence to him a foul.

He grew angry by the second with curses in his head
he heard the whisper but he denied it attention, ignored it instead.
The whisper grew in some degrees in decibels
and he shook his head again and again.

"Shut it, quiet! Leave me be!"
But the whisper kept continuing.
"Why?" was all he could muster before he stood on his seat
before he became a lunatic who shook his feet.

They escorted him off and onto the streets
Letting him be as he started to weep.
The man on the train  can never be seen
well that how it goes in my head I mean.

I went for a run this morning,
The winter sky still dark,
The water of the lake steel gray
Encircled by the park.

Upon whose trail I ran today,
Her road of asphalt black,
And chased a memory in vain,
Knowing it shan’t come back.

But the chill morning wind I chased,
His mocking, whistling breeze,
His fingers searched me, bitter cold,
And rustled leaves on trees.

The promise of the Spring now gone,
Summer’s heat now forgot,
The new sweet scent now long dispersed,
The fruit now gone to rot.

Those leaves, once green, fell to the earth,
Borne on the drafty air.
With haste I raced back on the boughs
To set them in place there.

But crisp and brown and cracked and dead,
I trod them underfoot;
I left them on the road behind
As finished I my route.

When u travel on a road,
You have a map
When you travel by sea or desert,
You have a compass
When you travel by air,
You have navigation
When you travel by your heart,
What do you have?

When you feel, it directs you,
When your soul leaps, it moves you forward,
When the wind blows it causes you to turn,
Even just to change your direction
When your emotions are lost,
How do u move?

I have searched for the tremmer,
Or just a breeze,
Just a bump to knock me,
I searched for it in an ******
I searched for it at the bottom of a bottle
I looked in my childrens laughs
Where is it?

I am lost, for I know not what direction to take
I don't know who I am, or where I need to be
How do I send out a cry for help?
How do I call for rescue?

I search for silence, silence of the ever growing fear
Fear of loss
Fear of abandonment
Fear of rejection
Fear of failure
Fear of never being found!