PAST
She needed to be reminded of who she was. She needed assurances from long-lost strangers. She needed to be told she was right and that she could fly. She needed to be tucked in at night and impassioned with light. She needed something from them that they could not give. She needed what she could not have. She needed to not be sad. She needed for a change to inspire. She needed to be told of her truth and her fight.
PRESENT
She needed too much from other people, and that was her downfall. One day a part of her died, the part that needed constant reassurance and love. It was brutally murdered by her own hands, in a fit of passion. And she was happy, far better off, without the weight of others within her.
FUTURE
She needs to remind herself of who she was, is and will be. She needs to push herself and keep moving f o r w a r d. She will always need something from herself that she can give, and will no longer waste on other people. She will be strong, and loved, and happy!

my friends and i
keep it in the air
together, forever, keep it flying
working as one
having the most fun
keep it in the air
together, forever, in memory
and love

i used to be a slave to the words that were all i could hear, that consumed my only clear thoughts and ideas. i used to be obsessed with capturing them and wrangling them into exactly what i meant them to be. and that proved too hard, because i am weak and words are fickle.

i used to stare at everything in my sight as hard as i could to get the exact picture i wanted to capture. i used to wonder about who and what and when and where. the permanence of the captured picture brought me back in time, into memories and old sights and places. i took a camera with me everywhere so i could capture all of my thoughts, all of my feelings and memories. and that proved too hard, as pictures develop into nothing unique, nothing clear.

i used to draw and shade and mold and touch. my fingers needed to create, needed to explode. i created what was easiest, what flowed out with no second thought. i used to try and let it take over me. and that proved too hard, as my hand seized up and i gave up. because of talent. because of pain. because nothing came rushing through my fingertips.

i used to think myself into different lands, different lives and different ideologies. i used to get lost within nothing, easily distracted by the cycles in my head, the cycles of life and love and death and pain. that proved too hard, because i am weak and only wanted numbness, darkness, thoughtlessness.

the thoughts and words and pictures and ideas dulled into the ordinary. everything has the same release that nothing does. how exhausting, when i only need a little bit of release. i have dulled myself into oblivion while looking for adrenaline. and now it looks like i'm out of chances, because i gave up. because i am so weak.

It is a sickening feeling when you think back to a different time, maybe a fuller time and the people you loved, who are gone with the wind into each other, without you even though you loved them, too. You had to start over and you’re afraid your new beginnings aren’t quite as full but yet there is no comparison because it has separated into two different lifetimes. Yet you’re still lonely despite your beautiful new life, something is missing and maybe things could be more shiny... and you wonder what it would be if either your old life could end and disappear, or completely blend in with this new one so it can finally be whole. Yet you know it is whole, nothing is missing except hurt and confusion and lying and cruelty. Why would you want that in your new world? Why would you want a little more excitement, a little more wonder, a little more laughter, a little more connection... maybe if your old life had come to an end, your current life would not be so pointless and circuitous. Maybe some thing and some people connections would be more real and life would be more of a fantastic adventure. But there is no holding on to what is the past, there should be no idealization of the horrible things that happened to you, your life could be no different and maybe this is just as happy as you can be.

If i were to know the happenings of yesterday in their entirety
if i knew of everyone who feel in love, and each who fell out
if i knew of those who died, lived, and began again
if i were to know of each new leaf and each form of condensation
the path of every bird, the thought of every dog and the feelings of everyone and every living thing
if i knew the the feelings, the happenings of yesterday
maybe i would know more about today.

When memories fade into the darkness, the one that sits at the edge of your eyeballs, and clearness becomes the most filled with unclarity
you are not allowed to remember because your foggy, mushy brain is stuck on REPEAT
  And the checkups, tuneups, improvements and replacements of your daily life only lead you to be irreparably shattered
  The measly repair is only a grim patched quilt of an unlucky (and unloved) being
   To ease the muddy water that keeps you stuck you must LISTEN TO SEE

(That touching is feeding and you need to be full.)

Do not listen to the useless urges that may be thrown your way by the trickster in your hair
He is only there to make you worse

it seems to me
to be an unforseen
elusive imaginer of
light
and love -
never to be captured
but forever hunted

they'd like to make it clear,
to you
to i,
to us,
that any angst in
the chase for definition
is futile
and marks the heart of a
senile man