I wake up with a heavy heart
Ragged breathing and hidden scars

Inhale, exhale, repeat
I chant to the silent beat

I looked around from left to right
And realized I want to fight

Fight for you, and fight for me
And all the things that we could be

When i was young, my skin was smooth and soft and un-ravaged.
Then, I grew up, and my top and bottom cheeks sagged, and my laughter
became a tangible memory around the corners of my eyes.
Now, when I smile, there are dimples and there are lines,
like the life-line and the love-line which are supposed to spell out my story
on the palm of my hand.
When I opened my eyes as a child, I saw brown water and blue skies and popsicles.
I saw floats on a lake and boats and friends splashing in from a water-trampoline,
yellow life jackets bobbing and children shouting.
Now, I still see blue skies, but sometimes there are white clouds and sometimes grey.  
I see my mother with her own memories of laughter around her eyes and I see the crevices
at the edges of my father’s mouth from smiling and frowning.
I smell flowers now, and little boys inform me they're fuschia, and when I breathe
at night my pillow smells like London and my room like lavender so I am home and
abroad at once.
Once, when I was sad, I would think mommy and daddy mommy and daddy.  
Now, when I am afraid, I think mommy mommy daddy I miss you.  
I sleep in a twin bed and I tickle myself and it is like I am in kindergarten but now
my fantasies are slicker and harsher but they still paint pictures of a school girl.
I lay in shivasna when I was young yet not old, and I saw a peach pit uncovered,
and it transcended back in time to a baby, just born in the world, and I realized
how it is we can die before our bodies do, how our minds can leave even though
we physically stay.

A race of people whose bones tolled like bells when the traveler shed bliss upon their world early each solar cycle.
I watched them with slackjawed edge from my little corner of universe with unholy, godly rhetoric.
Through my scope of foresight I saw their futile attempts at peace, love, war, and all things human.
Warm illusions of grandeur filled their view oftentimes as I stretched my ancient tendons.
I blew staunch breezes and razing storms that shook a world to the core with reckless abandon.
And they returned to me, nothing more than fizzled essence.
Honeyed words, broken culture, and finally, wasted life itself.

With what is yours, do what you fancy.

But forget not what is fiction, and what is firm.

This moment is fading for all.
Will your use of it stand or fall?
Time will tell,
But now is your chance
To look beyond time's moving wall.

when you look beyond busyness
what is it that you see?
a world endlessly searching
for what it was meant to be?
a mankind desperately looking
for the answer to its ache,
striving to achieve
some sort of break
from its broken heart
of pain and agony,
hoping to fix this
crippled reality?
when I look beyond busyness
I know what I see
a world waiting for God's return
when he destroys the enemy
a world waiting for the story to turn
to the part where Earth is set free

Waters of Visualizations flow through my soul
Slumbering, peacefully, winds of energies from afar
The call and whisk me away
To those astral planes allowing us to walk
and travel without tolls. without limitations.
As I touched your hands and I looked into your eyes
Your face appeared that it was not of this Earth
It was Human in looks and her beauty was quite breathtaking
She spoke in a language which seemed as if it were from ancient times.
Beautiful sounding words.
At first, my brain could not comprehend the messages that she was trying to convey to me
After holding her right hand, a glow, to my temple
A short while later...in talk and in understandings of each other
We had no limitations and were free.
She spoke of the lack of appreciation
For the gifts of being placed in a new and beautiful world
Underappreciating the intelligence that "our family" was given
However, it had not dared to even tap within the childlike entry into such logic and learning.
How she reached out to me as I had been one of the few who tried to reach above this limits in which our family had been proud to watch me frow and overstep
I realized then.. we were not of this Earth.
We were a race from beyond the stars and were, to the openness to see such, were unwilling.
After strolling for what appeared to be many hours
It, was indeed many years on our real planet, which she spoke the name of "Xinix"
"Remain off course and watch the downfall of your world and extended family through useless wars and power greed. Refuse to see our true native tongue..not in words..but in telekinetic Communual Speech of Connected Minds."
"Spread the word. You have the brain knowledge I shared and the willingness to see our second planet grow. We shall always be in touch. Even past the measurement of stars...Through our Living Souls...
I know, Xenopus (your Xinic Race Name. To slow down or stop this infinite, childlike  insanity...or be the rescued while those about you destroy their own existence."
"I'll be looking after you."
The winds threw me back into my "ordinary and Logical World.."
This time, I "knew such travels were not of a dream"
As looking at my chest in the mirror - I saw the glowing blue heart beating from inside of me...
My true Family crest of one who Shall Help Teach the world. To those who would be able to understand and listen.
So I might be able to save, much more of our family, to reach the joining of a peaceful and loving race, true blue.

When I close my eyes, it's like stepping into a whole new world. White flecks in the darkness flash green and blue, the blackness bleeds red and I feel the sun warming denim. It makes me feel as though I'm at a standstill. Like this is a dream, a form of aesthetic that isn't quite my flavor and I have no place but an intrusion.

I hear wind chimes in the far distance, like a sparkle made up of sound waves and I suddenly wonder if the neighbors down the street are feeling this way as well. Or if it's just a fantasy, if this world is just a daydream away and we're the blurred figures we never remember but always see, like how people from dreams are real life people you've seen before. I like to imagine ourselves as those people, forgotten but lingering in the mind of whoever is staring down at us, if there is one anyway.

I find it easy to breathe: no weight down my chest or numbness crawling up my esophagus. My leg is swinging, my eyes are scanning and I should be enjoying this day like a normal person should.

But I'm not. Not because my heart is slowing down or that my mind is pulling me apart but because I know that whatever I do there is a filter that blocks me. Because even if I act happy and normal there's still a screen between us, made up of stigma and prejudice. Because I'm me.

I hear a baby's cry, ebbing into laughter and I wonder if I can be that innocent, that happy again. If I can be content with my life.

I smile sadly. "No."

I saw you on the shore, waving back at me from a far
Goodbye my love, goodbye forever
Forever, I thought, what a terrible thing
With tears in my eyes, please don’t let it be

May your love be the lighthouse that guides me home
When I am old and grey, and time has gone
When the chains have fallen from my hands
And freedom has given me hope that I may hold you again

Because our love was never in our faces or in our bodies
It was in our eyes
When I looked into yours, and you looked into mine
We saw beyond ourselves, and became one

This picture of you I carried with me all those years
Was only enough to remind me of your spirit
for every time I looked in the eyes of your painted image
I saw only hazel
and I felt so alone

but now as I live these seconds slow
not knowing when I will go
the picture that became a fleeting mystery
has taken on flesh, and become real once more

and after so long, and such pain
you stand before me on the shore
drawing me in to a face and body I no longer know
with hope and fear I look into your eyes
And again at last I see
The home
and the love
that forever, I’ve known