Everything is different,
aggravated noise is swept
off into the distance
furthermore, questions build
to an everlasting cause
while answers dance alone
just beyond the hanging clouds
of resistance

Am I really alive?
Living trapped in a blind spot
from the binding confines
of retreating into one’s
own misperceptions:
it’s a feat of escape
to consciously accept
what might be fate
but this never makes it any easier
to swallow or erase

I am consumed by
negative spaces,
floating in between
death and the void,
looking for reason
that won't come
and there is no use
in running from darkness
when it's what brought us
here at birth
and the only thing
we part with in the dirt

If the way out is through,
why do they stay and
mock the despair
behind my eyelids?
They laugh as I search
for purpose that doesn't exist
in lieu of aliens that I swear are real
when reality has always been
my achilles heel

It's a dance of avoiding gravity
until inevitably strikes a heavy blow
that life is random circumstance
siphoning into black holes,
a collection of moments
that we will forget to remember,
but how does one find peace
without answers?

Daylight starts peeking in
to see if I'm okay,
I disguise the sentiment
as irrelevant
when I could really use a break
from this carousel of fear
that only wants me to want more
as if I am owed a life
that is somehow past due,
checked out by someone
who was less afraid
to step outside of their room

Sunlight omits more concern
over reckless abandonment
as it greets my pacing force,
but there is no stopping
what was designed without brakes,
carried by all the love and hate
that glorifies impulse to
sift through emptiness-
a sacrifice to this blank screen
that consumes me with dread
over a deathless dream
stuck inside my head

Sink into the void I’ve found
that appears as pointless
and you’ll find a requite of safety,
steady your breathing

Vacate needless self-help,
not all flaws require examination
it is sensible to be empty,
steady your breathing

When trauma is
held onto as a lifeline
we cling to its identity,
halting time in its tracks
helplessly watching
as our essence begins to rot
in a cell that’s only condemning,
steady your breathing

Find comfort through experience,
seek out the universal center
and its unaffected infinity,
steady your breathing

Nature has a heartbeat
we can synchronize with
by accepting her relentless mortality,
steady your breathing

Death is inevitable, a beautiful mess
it is the enemy yet also a friend
depression is the cause,
sufferance is the effect
and reminders of transience
are the master of anxiety,
steady your breathing

There is immortal freedom hidden
outside of tunnel vision
compelling us with a symphonic tune
to believe in life
and find acceptance in death,
to sing along with this chorus of
left and right /
beginning and end
where it then gives way to a verse
of chaos and symmetry /
repent and forgiving,
steady your breathing

Sounds perfecting the mirage
stuck in our peripheral
of duality in tonal form
so we can understand that true wealth
is noticing the difference
between what we believe
and what is reality,
steady your breathing

She wakes up every morning
with a frown on her face
as he stumbles from his bed
and into a chair that
he will never get out of,
there is tension in the air
as she downs another
exclaiming, "bottoms up"
when it makes her glass world
shatter
at the rise of a cup

All he can do is watch the pieces
as they become pronounced
while the shift of retreating cats
induces a pitter-patter
and more pictures fade out;
the happy memories
now stained
from her cigarette smoke
to ensure they'll die together,
yet somehow alone

He is cursed with a disease
that has rendered him pitiful
but alcohol doesn't care,
she drinks another swig,
becoming more cyclical
and deems the mans hindrance
as sinful

Stuttering, he can't escape
a liquid she's drowned him with
by pouring it into her own veins-
maybe it's better this way,
to watch the walls as they cave in

What else can he do
as he slowly degrades
from Parkinson's?

I envisioned her being erased
as I slipped under this frozen lake
that will cleanse me of
our brokenness
by turning my bones into icicles,
clarifying the sum
of how I became
shrouded in midnight blues
and the bluntness
shakes my last gulp loose
until the earth is still,
leaving me a cliché
as I glisten with the moon

My thoughts flicker into a dream
where we finally understood
without being mean,
where our love had no consequence
and we did things for each other
not only because we should
until a nightmare arises
of living torn apart
in realization that I
never appreciated her
when she was in my arms

Now I'm sorting through decay
into a dimension of
fading memory
and things speed up
as my mind begins to race,
but was it ever my mind to behold?
Are we just visions projected
through those that personify us?

The concept of missing another
has left, where is here?
Her face dissolves,
and my last thought conjured
is a question of why
there was no emphasis
on other people or resolve
before I got lost in self-destruction,
looking for the sound
of her laughter

What remains
is unending fear
as this aura travels elsewhere
and a body absently sinks
to the bottom of Moses Lake;
goodbye dear

What if all the chemicals and screens
disappeared from the earth,
would you crawl out of your skin
or rise to the task?
it is said that there is no cure
because answers thrive only in silence
when one learns how to ask

Instead we accelerate
to consume noise
through wild fields of dopamine,
clawing with no poise
we exploit weakness for personal gain
until sincerity bleeds from the picture
and there’s no room left in frame
for an honest work of art
because we’d rather exhaust the canvas
with moments devoid of heart

Humility is a difficult lesson
most live in reverie
as hollow, floating silhouettes
desperate to equate value
with material progress
until one of two options remain:
convene with the shaking breaths
or envision a hapless fate

Darkness, it looms
pleading to steer our attention
to do nothing and sit with grace
showing a natural way
to create harmony while sifting
through time and space,
yet we continue to sit upon ivory towers
ignoring balance that only succeeds
with the fusion of light,
because in darkness
is the beginning of all life

Summer slips away
while I hide in my room
wasting time falling down
wondering if I’ll ever share
this wealth of love
I hoard on my mound
with someone besides myself:
a tragedy, curled up on the rug,
jaded by the compassion
that has been given up
and I can't get enough

I pinch in further to zoom
on the microcosm of my life
and see that it’s cropped into a frame
without resolve or anyone to blame
alone with the blinds drawn
frozen in a still shot
where I'm hiding from the moon
and it has me believing that
I might die alone
from lack of sleep
as I howl and brood

Morning breaks through
requesting me with warmth
and calling out to
wake me before noon.
I hear but don't listen,
instead I'll bask in this gloom,
listless

That surely must produce
some worthwhile art in the end
even if something will always
feel like it's missing

You look like the kind of person
that I could share silence with
and I’ve been made a fool
from reveling in this idealized mess
ever since the day that we never met

Only saw a face,
as it shifted through shadows
at your kinetic pace,
masked in a smile from
this wistful summer glare,
and intricate details that
long to match your auburn hair

Neurons started firing,
daydreams cascade and blend,
my infatuation twists and bends
into a proclamation of art
that recycles upon waking up:
my continuation of getting lost
about whoever /
wherever you are

Tired of the itch,
tired of the chase
looking for what I don’t have
while the world goes down in flames
making excuses about how it’s ingrained
when all it really takes is discipline
mixed with a little bit of pace

Still, I hover in the wind,
let me float back through
the wild fields of dopamine
where we all still take refuge
inside of a haze, fearing truth,
destroying self-worth
to secure temporary comfort

My energy is frozen in time,
it siphons into everyone I touch
with each heavy hearted step,
forging the very culture I am certain
is the reason life is so hard
because I’ve seen the depths
of my own broken parts
and still hear a voice in the back
of my head ring out:

“If reality is set in stone by
how you perceive,
and if you see the endlessness of it all
then why do you set store by
any so-called beliefs?
Isn’t that just habit underneath?”

The Starbucks was torn down
where my fantasies of us
were set apart from
tangibles that shattered
my existence;
its been five years since then
and I never wrote a metaphor
better to describe the mark
that was left on that day
or in the inevitability that
all things must change

Because I once painted
a dark haired girl
the color of my world
it was art on its way to self-demise
overshadowed by the comfort of
those nights that we would hide
blending into our chameleon moonlight,
she left me with many questions
but the answer to only one:
becoming empty enough to know
how not to love

This lesson was carved into the stone
of that suburban parking lot,
a reflection of her succinct goodbye
that collided with the surface of
every whisk to breakfast and sunshine
she rejected in my room,
engulfing me in combusted lies
mixed with the scent of coffee
and fleeting perfume

I was left smoldering on concrete
with the opus of an imbalanced soul
that reduced me to nothing inside
except reluctant aches that
ravished in our severed ties,
and all I could do was sit there
basking in the rays of the only time
we ever shared morning light

I've trodded this entire state
looking for simplicity
and a warm fireplace
but modern life is arduous
and it delays

Its forgotten that
community blooms where
we sow patience,
fear only ceases when we embrace it

So to seek outward is a fool's errand,
and here I am, a fool like the rest,
thinking about one foot forward
and blaming sorrow on lack of progress
when peace resides in each moment
where we finally resist
the push to be more than a miracle
that shouldn't even exist

If that isn't enough
then nothing ever will be
I've spent my life giving up everything
and the more I let go, the more it hurts,
but at the same time, there is growth,
and in wake of this understanding
was an emptiness that
made me feel whole:

An obvious sign that there is
still nothing to be afraid of
in the pull of the unknown

The cosmos do not bend
to our might
the universe has a nature
of its very own;
control is a mirage that takes hold
we die when we die
but there will always be
an endless light
being fed to the living below

Where a mother just gave birth
in a dreary hospital room
filled with loved ones and flowers
next-door to a man who died
alone, in the peak of June
on that same day
with the same replenishing light
reflecting in what is a perfect sky:
meaning is an illusion
that we self-create

Why make sense of things
that are better left on the shelf?
Answers are bittersweet
figments of "truth"
akin to religion
and its unfruitful ruse
for it is no secret that language
plays a fickle tune,
each voice with its own sacrilege
to project as a catalyst
unknowingly for the downfall
where we all lose

To a bullish sense of self
deemed more important
as people shout and yell,
it's unbeknownst to them
that self-righteous anger
is also best left
on the shelf

The tightness in my chest
conveys that I need to disconnect
sit alone, on a remote landscape
hoping the sound of rustling leaves
will sync with these shakes
and ease my deathless torment

As some quiet finally sets in,
introspection begins to surface
and it gets me wondering if
these thoughts of mine
intertwine with the pain that I keep
to manifest a life of anger and delusion
draping me in shades of guilt,
forever climbing up this hill

Closing my eyes paved the way
for understanding unrivaled:
an ineffable cause
to sit with nothingness,
I spilled into a void and suddenly
stopped drowning in sadness,
finding humor in the unknown
when a feminine hand reached out
with love, telling me to let go
and she shared with me
everything I wanted to know;

“There is no path to save yourself,
only transcendence:
answers can be begged for
but until you let go of precedence
and learn to listen for each breath
the tightness will never settle
within your chest”

Within every burned forest
lies a newly sprouting seed,
irreparable on the surface
is a cycle that is forgiving,
albeit wild and relentless
it moves in ways that cannot
be comprehended

In the essence of
a bleak rain danced sky
is life striving to renew;
nature needs no hand
from humans to thrive,
the answer to all of our squirming
is to simply re-align

Strength is weakness,
being soft is bravery-
to pointedly disappear
in a world built of thrones,
it is fluidity that will outlast
all that power
attempts to hone

Heavy lies the rock, it is hard
be free with the wind
like a fallen leaf
and you will catch
a free ride home

Only when you are certain
that there is nowhere to go
except right where you are-
will you be free
from the urge to shape
or control

Vices hold me in a grip
living is a ****** up game,
I mash buttons until I bend and flip
breakdown, take another hit:
I’ve relinquished my prime of life
wishing it was someone else’s fault
that I’m stranded on this island,
this is why I succumb to vices

It started as a wild ride
that turned into the spins
a religion of motion sickness,
wanting to stop but always caving in
it spirals through my mind
filling damage to the brim
emotions are meant to process here,
now they only dissipate in chagrin
as rueful ignorance catapults
this living hell to greater heights
without having to lift a finger:
my self-inflicted violence,
a byproduct of vices

Left with no rationale to care,
only a small bend in time where
my spindle came undone;
it's here I revel in self-despair
as a loser who
always failed to listen,
a captain without a vision
ready to drown in cognitive dissonance
because it’s easier to believe a lie
than to accept how life is:
where are my vices?