I may have achey feet from working
all the live long day.
But I'm grateful for them.
They take my mind off my aching heart. Caused by the curse of adulting and time keeping us apart.

the bathrooms need cleaned and we're out of milk
there's dust on every surface
two weeks' worth of laundry in a corner of the bedroom while
I sit in the basement playing games and watching a
tv show at the same time to shut off the feeling that


I should be doing better than this

Years have passed,
Seasons have changed.
Am I an adult yet?
Couldn't say.
Relate?

While pain was brief,
And a cleanse was needed,
I still grow more and do my best to succeed.
Did I pay a bill?
Is it in the budget?
Swear to God I could go for a 20 piece McNugget.

While I shift and work it out,
I'll still ask myself am I good enough?
When isn't your mind...
What kind...
Don't lie...
Stop.
Take a breathe and it's going to be all fine.

Is my flow still the same?
Is my expression more better?
Does it make any sense to you that im still explaining and continuously refraining from resaying a word by rearranging the framing of this here decree I'm declaring?
No, not really.

With exercises and breakdowns,
I've seen it in better ways.
Still in chains,
But looser around the brains.
It's taken time,
But I'm finally in control...

I'm getting used to... New.

The glow of city lights
reflecting on the fountain waters
it lighting up the grey brick floor.
Renon is sleeping.

After the anesthesia wore off,
it seems as if
the Drawarapla is starring at me.

Are we all
too entitled to be willing to “suffer” ?
we're clay molded, put in the work?

There’s a fine line
between submission and abuse.

Youth - an epitome

In your own headspace
and all you could hear is your heart

Pounding
like you had an extra shot of coffee
Sinking........
your breathing gets louder and slower

In a wrath of emotions
As you peel the foil of the chocolate bar
and take a bite into your anxiety
it is bittersweet

You find yourself in a place
where you no longer belong
where expectations are high yet grey

What an odd age
An odd age indeed

Fun turns into guilt
Money becomes happiness
Love, a liability

But remember, while all things change
there’s one that doesn’t
It is Him

His Word remains, always

Remember the roast potato days,
try to feel them when they arrive
in a kind of “What is this life…” way

The days when a surfeit of crisp-crunch
surrounds a fluffy middle, robed in a gravy of any persuasion
placating even the glummest sentiments

When rains are driven off
by silken rice pudding
spiked with a sweet acid dollop of jam of any fruit

Recall the carbohydrate wealth
when the poor days come
and your heart-stomach rumbles

Butter fat richness will return
and learning to trust this
is an adult meal indeed

thoughts in my head clouding my sight
my anxieties keeping me up at night
constantly thinking you’re not on my side
thinking that all my demons will collide

there’s something in the water i drink
i know this because i fear what i think
you tell me i’m crazy and that we’re okay
are you tired of reminding me everyday

i spin further away from my truth
i dive deeper into the pain of my youth
digging and searching for some peace
but these voices in my head don’t cease

i remember the rush the joy the ache
knowing there was something at stake
self harm my absolute longest lost friend
i hope that we never ever meet again