I touched His hand and
He hit me.

I ran my finger prints
over His callused thumb
over the cuts and bruises;
between the towers that were His fingers.

He gripped my tender fingertips with death
and pulled me under with his clutch.
He spilled sea foam into my ears,
filled my mouth with His salty tongue.

I saw love in shades of green and blue
heard His voice in strokes of black,
split my lip between His teeth and
washed my mouth with a copper jam.

I floated with Him for a time,
watched the waves collide over my head,
counted the grains of sand between strands of hair and
listened to reality through the heavy static of a radio.

I touched God's hand but
when I came to, they only wanted to know today's date.

I have scars on my body the origin to some I have no clue.
Some memories are a blur, and I don't know exactly what I've been through.
You're more than welcome to read my mind or hand.
I no longer have a steady stand.

The crash had changed me in ways I didn't know.
Since the crash, my brain has lost so much info.
People I've known slipped through a crevice.
Memories of mine found a way out of my iris.

I used to question my surrounding.
Now I question myself for not knowing.
I'm trying to chisel away as much blur as I can.
Each piece I break off only seems to grow larger than my wingspan.

This day and on I only hope to retain,
My new campaign even if it turns me insane.
I'm ready for what comes my way, cause there is still an airflow.
Life knocks me down and I rise back up without a halo.

Another word
                                 skids off the edge
                                                            ­            with a dull thud.
Now
                                        there's no one

but I squeeze                                                          ­     my eyes

                        and try not to focus on the things
    
                                                                ­                                          in my head.

I was    scared.

To become

Simply

                 thoughts


Love
                      comfort
                   ­      safe

Or      another.



       hurt




I want nothing more
Than        you happy.




It's you that matters.

It was strong, burned my throat
I tried not to make a face because everyone was starring, waiting for my reaction
I felt warm air rush through my stomach that gave me the motivation to take another shot
and then another and another
Finally the bottle was empty, and so was I
Each person there looked the same except for me
Thats how it all started, the addiction to *blackout

I was going to
do an obnoxious
blackout post but

Decided against it,
because who really
needs or wants it,
anyway

And it's in these small
ways that you affect me

Today marks 50th anniversary of the 1965 blackout that affected Ontario and the entire Northeastern United States.
Many people are glad that we remembered on this tragic day.
And so do I, i don't experience any power outages like that at all and i always stay safe.