thinking about bus drivers, lying sleepless
3 AM
wondering about drug tests,
if they can’t go to work
because they drank to forget
and they don’t want to lose their job
for unhealthy coping mechanisms
because you can drive yourself into an early grave
but you can’t take the citizens with you

.
When love was young and bore an immigrant
Soul, how fresh and adventurous the years
And brinkmanship, my rite, was took for grant,
Aye, in my flotsam and jetsam, I spent no tears
Which by and by a greedy sea of beginnings
Has left no bounty, but cargo delivered or turned
To wood adrift, which built but useless things,
Children love tossing in fires bonny burned.
Here I lie, on the waters edge, searching—
For something to contain my emptiness,
My wanderlust, but like shy waves lurching,
I wrestle now, toward land, not loneliness.
Though I spent my life as a flag unfurled,
A disembodied soul is without this world.
.

Looking back on these pages,
I can’t help but see,
this outlet I’m using,
is not helping me.

I used to use poetry,
to clear out my thoughts,
to “pour out the poison”,
when I was distraught.

Lately, however,
it’s changed in some way.
That feeling of peace,
has been replaced with dismay.

I would pour out a rhyme,
and the pain would recede,
but now the water grows deeper,
and I simply can’t breathe.

I look around lately,
and this feels like a dream.
It’s like nothing is real,
just “simulated reality”.

Going through the motions,
but there has to be more,
there has to be substance,
but where is the shore?

How do I stop from drowning,
when I’m creating the waves?
Fighting to stay afloat,
and trying to act brave.

I guess the simple answer is,
is it’s not simple at all.
I have to keep trying,
if I can’t walk then I’ll crawl.

**** all the whining,
the excuses too,
because I’m in this alone,
and I know what to do.

I won’t give up easy,
and if I should fail,
then at least I’ll know I tried,
to open my sail.

So here’s to the future,
and a heart I hope mends,
but even if it doesn’t,
we’re all just stories in the end.

if you’re like me
you tend to see
the doors
that close
perpetually

I make these decisions
in the heat of the moment

contemplation is non-existent
my fear is my opponent

stuck in an endless cycle of trepidation
no rights or wrongs
have found themselves in this equation

but to bathe in the what ifs
would force my head under

no air to breathe
and still left to wonder

so these decisions are made
sporadic as they come

I won't be transfixed
you'll find me on the run

mirror, mirror on the wall,
who is the weakest of them all?
see my splintered fragments fall?
those pieces of me—big and small.

mirror, can you help me see
that wicked boy in front of me?
help me, mirror, i can't see
the charm of the world around me.

mirror, he's now out to ****,
if i won't love myself, who will?
years of numbness, i can't feel
the knife that's there to pierce my skin.

----------------------------------------------------

my mind is now starting to spin.
searing pain, but i can't feel.
if i won't love myself, who will?
mirror, he's now out to ****.

reflections of his memory—
as twisted as it could be.
that wicked boy in front of me,
mirror, can you help me see?

into the ground, i slowly fall.
see those red drops as they fall?
i am the weakest of them all,
mirror, mirror on the wall.

I have stepped out onto the railroad station
I had found my train, after contemplation
Inside my heart, a feeling for two is stored
My only question: will you take me aboard?