~

My entire life, days I didn’t even know I existed,
hours I sat in the window staring out
Moments spent walking along empty highways
exhaustedly scanning the horizons
Gazing into the night sky, dreaming beyond the moon
Pacing a weakened floor, counting the creaks
Peering behind shadow coated tree lines,
reaching for that which has eluded me

spent looking for you, not even sure who you were
Just knowing that you were out there
you…it has always been you

Sitting on a curb, head in my hands,
lost within the thoughts of my fate,
dreaming of the darkness which seems to follow me,
I feel a warmth, the cold wind changes
Soft hands upon my shoulders rest
and I look between crossed fingers,
seeing that smile, those eyes, realizing
I have not found you…you have found me

You lift me, I feel light, weightless,
as your lips meet mine, and I see
you…it has always been you

Suddenly it all makes sense,
while feeling time was wasted,
remembering footprints mounting the many faded trails,
sunlight opens a new chapter
proving I was not wrong  
Love has found me and it is
you…it has always been you

July 8th - Where am I? What is this place? Why do I remember everything & nothing all at the exact same time?

July 14th - This is a place where the dying go to; I don't understand.

July 24th - I feel this sort of pain, but it's nothing I can't handle.

August 1st - I miss my pillow the most.

August 17th - I don't know how I ended up in here. I don't know how I ended up like this.

August 20th - I was created to please, yet lived to only disappoint.

August 21st - I'm so cold. They don't have blankets in this room. Just walls.

August 22nd - Why hasn't anyone came to visit me? Why doesn't anyone care?

August 24th - I can't breathe. These walls turned into a face mask & I can feel myself slowly disintegrating.

August 28th - A cookie may be able to crumble, but I could crumble oh so much faster; & crumble I shall.

September 1st - A window appeared. But it's always raining outside of it.

September 4th - I forgot how to speak. The rain is much louder than my voice, & i'm starting to realize that's how it's always been.

September 5th - I don't remember the feeling of dry eyes. I can't tell if the moistness is actually tears or if i've just been standing by this window a little too long.

September 15th - I like to pretend that this feeling is normal.

September 16th - Everyone won't stop asking me questions about when i'm going to get released & seem to never stop wondering what's "actually wrong with me".

September 17th - Maybe I can just act like everyone else are the ones with the problems.

September 21st - I need to be alone, yet I haven't even seen anyone in what seems to be months.

September 28th - I don't know how long i've been in here, but i'm starting to feel at home.

October 2nd - I finally met my doctor. He seems like a nice man. Hopefully he can take this feeling away, whatever it is.

October 3rd - I haven't opened my eyes all day; i'm too scared to see that you're still not there.

October 5th - The doctor keeps telling me that there are no visible sign of anything being wrong, he says i'm free to go.

October 5th - I don't want to go.

Love me like you did
The night we were in the city.
I'm sorry I won't stop talking,
You just looked so pretty.
We got lost on the highway
But we were fine.
Stuck in time
On the dark sandy beach.
I'm sorry I won't stop talking,
You just looked so cunning.
In the reflection of my memory.
I'm sure you're  sharing
All my secrets with him
Like you have been,
Because I was never enough.
I'm better now
Her eyes are deeper.
Hopefully she won't,
Tear out my heart
And leave it on the floor.

It's never quite right, he said, the way people look,
the way the music sounds, the way the words are
written.
It's never quite right, he said, all the things we are
taught, all the loves we chase, all the deaths we
die, all the lives we live,
they are never quite right,
they are hardly close to right,
these lives we live
one after the other,
piled there as history,
the waste of the species,
the crushing of the light and the way,
it's not quite right,
it's hardly right at all
he said.

don't I know it? I
answered.

I walked away from the mirror.
it was morning, it was afternoon, it was
night

nothing changed
it was locked in place.
something flashed, something broke, something
remained.

I walked down the stairway and
into it.

during my worst times
on the park benches
in the jails
or living with
******
I always had this certain
contentment-
I wouldn't call it
happiness-
it was more of an inner
balance
that settled for
whatever was occuring
and it helped in the
factories
and when relationships
went wrong
with the
girls.
it helped
through the
wars and the
hangovers
the backalley fights
the
hospitals.
to awaken in a cheap room
in a strange city and
pull up the shade-
this was the craziest kind of
contentment

and to walk across the floor
to an old dresser with a
cracked mirror-
see myself, ugly,
grinning at it all.
what matters most is
how well you
walk through the
fire.