Do you know how lucky you are
I know that it is sometimes ****** to hear
to hear that your problems aren't the problems
you think they are
trust me
I had the worst year of my life
and today
I knew it had to change
so I changed it
the only thing you need to know
you are capable
of making the whole world stop in its tracks
so the next time
the annoying voice in your head
tells you you aren't good enough
or some other *******
remind yourself
Harry says we are all ******* awesome
with unlimited potential
the world is a ball of clay in your hands
do us all a favor
and make it something
absolutely ******* awesome

Awake, awake my little Boy!
Thou wast thy Mother’s only joy:
Why dost thou weep in thy gentle sleep?
Awake! thy Father does thee keep.

“O, what land is the Land of Dreams?
What are its mountains, and what are its streams?
O Father, I saw my Mother there,
Among the lillies by waters fair.

Among the lambs clothed in white
She walked with her Thomas in sweet delight.
I wept for joy, like a dove I mourn—
O when shall I return again?”

Dear child, I also by pleasant streams
Have wandered all night in the Land of Dreams;
But though calm and warm the waters wide,
I could not get to the other side.

“Father, O Father, what do we here,
In this land of unbelief and fear?
The Land of Dreams is better far
Above the light of the Morning Star.”

The soft wind yet breaks on my cheek,
Its frigidness does my heart keep,
Inside its breath and wantings weep,
I lost everything in the haze of sleep.
-
Upon a drifting willow's bark,
I spied the sights of twisting arc,
The ax that had here made its mark,
Had morosely torn the tree apart.
-
I found there that nothing may change,
Yet everything has something to gain,
The profit in sales of wilting and pain,
Has lead to self-proclaimed "insane."
-
Footprints in sand with tide washed away,
Echoes enchant the hive mind, astray
I walk only to get through wretched today,
Tomorrow holds no reason to stay.
-
Love contaminates the air I breath,
Infections break in my head and seethe
How does one follow this revolting creed?
I know not this virtue, it escapes me.
-
No folly of mine found in books of lore,
I'm not kept hero in tomes of yore,
I remember naught of all before,
And I lay down to die in the awaiting shore.
-
Bitter and relentless does my heart scorn,
That I wish to remove it and flesh betorn,
That my hopes may bring sickle to corn,
That I pray for mourning's distant morn.

Somedays I wake up,
and I pray to whatever is above me,
whether it be God or something else beyond my comprenesion,
isn't there to wake me up.

Somedays, I lay there,
In my bed,
surrounded by the warm layers of fabric that seem to hold me together,
and wish that they would just curl tighter around me,
and constrict me closer into myself,
and pray that they can gently convince my lungs to stop working,
so I can just not wake up.

Somedays, I wonder,
Just gazing around me,
If i can just stop the clock, and stay right where I am,
safe and sound comfortable in myself,
away from all of the anxiety I feel as it would
rise and fall in my chest and bury itself with the confides of my stomache,
and all the other nitches that it can find,
and I dream of not waking up

Somedays, I win.
Somedays, I lose.

I usually lose.

And I find myself uncurling from my happy prison of warmth,
and I feel my feet on the cold hardwood floors,
sighing as I run my finger thrugh my ***** hair,
wondering, not praying
how I ever was able to wake up.

My wife, a psychiatrist, sleeps
through my reading and writing in bed,
the half-whispered lines,
manuscripts piled between us,

but in the deep part of night
when her beeper sounds
she bolts awake to return the page
of a patient afraid he'll **** himself.

She sits in her robe in the kitchen,
listening to the anguished voice
on the phone. She becomes
the vessel that contains his fear,

someone he can trust to tell
things I would tell to a poem.

I thought about you last night
And it's not what you're thinking
I mean more like day dreaming
More like a storyline
Playing out in my head
With ups and downs
And it was so perfect
I wrote it down
And realized
I might love my fictionalized version of you
More than the real you
I guess that's always the case
But it made me realise
What I love so much
About writing
It's the closest I've ever felt
To god