Why is it
That inspiration hits
at all the wrong times?

Wandering the woods,
no pen in sight,
and suddenly the greatest idea dawns on me.
Distracts from the nature and beauty around
as I repeat it again and again
in the hopes that it will be etched into my mind.

I rush to the place
where I can write it all down
where it can be remembered forever
But when I arrive
It is gone without a trace.

At night, when all is dark,
when silence is the key to survival,
it slinks into bedrooms
and curls up in tired minds.

Keeps me awake for hours,
only to disappear at the first sign of light
leaving me alone again.

And yet, I'll stare at a paper
For days, years, decades
And ideas evade me.
My mind is blank
as the sheet in front of me.

And nothing comes to mind.

I don't like sharing.
Or letting you into my space.
I have a hard time with being kind.
Judgements come naturally.
Strangers can be punchlines.
Your feelings may bother me.
I want you to like me.
But I may not like you.
My first impression of you,
Sticks even when I'm wrong.
I don't like how I am.
I've said I would change.

I haven't.
But I wish I would.

Can we talk about the word trigger
Because people are dumb
Teenagers say they are triggered when
They don’t want to write a paper
They miss a goal in soccer
They drop their phone
That is called being annoyed or disappointed
That is not triggered

A trigger is an emotional allergy
Some that triggers distress or panic
A trigger is loud noises cause a panic attack

Make way for the bees.
There's too much to say.
Love once and forever.
Bleed out the day.

More happy than sense.
The future divide.
Between a man and his friends.
For him and his bride.

Low cost, low manage.
And family safe.
Party and make merry.
For our new home today.

Couples of fame.
Lovers of vice.
Homes that were broken, parents that fight.

But no bad ending and no fallout.
No lovers spat, no bad flake out.
It could be true love or it could not be.
But I've been left here for an eternity.

And so, she pervades and steals my friends.
And my disgust to her attends.
Blame me, or their crossed stars above.
But I blame the forgetful feeling known as love.

Are you bothered by "It?!"
Are you pushing it away?
When you hit rock bottom
The only way back is up.

Make friends with "It."
Move  closer to "It."
Expand your awareness around "It."
Totally embrace "It."

If you drop the story line about "It."
"It" will become a Love story.
A story about Unconditional Kindness & Love.

All of you below
Are little tiny ant-people
Bumbling through these funny streets
Hidden beneath my shadow.

With their cut cuticles of hair
And those knotted clumps of muscle
Around the pebble streets they roam
To destinations unknown

All around are towers of steel
All air conditioned and ventricled
Made of stone and office drone
They are the buzzing hives of employables

On the street the blood cells meet
On embolic artery of Battery
On varicose Vein of Sansome
The exoskeleton of this city
Curbed with Grey
and auburn streaks

Far away
Beyond the bay
In the neck of a wood's decay
The tiny ants feast on bark
As cars fly past on an interstate.

I'm tired of fighting for your affection
an attention that never comes
I look forward in anticipation
only to be met with disappointment
that you don't take romantic leads