The tissues I have cried into
are my excuses,
to hide the clutter of calls and love I forgot to return.
Sometimes it is too late to clear the mess I made.
It is more difficult to retain my will to clean it all up,
which sort of made me guilty
of creating another sad person.
But what is another tissue in another sea.
Everyone dreams of sailing into a brighter morning
leaving behind their darkness in another’s mind.
What if I am as selfish as them.
What is another ship, another selfish wish
amidst thousand such others-
all stranded on a water-less heart
all looking for a flood, instead of directions.

Your gut is the compass.
Your knowledge is the landscape.
Your mind is the map.

She looks in the mirror and sees a mistake, a broken girl with no direction, a girl who does not deserve love or happiness, no way to cover the ugliness.
She hates her personality, she hates her face, she hates all the things that she cannot change. She wishes that everything she saw in the mirror would simply fade away.

I looked at her with only admiration for the beauty I saw in her soul. She was perfect in my eyes. She was everything I could never be. I loved her with everything that I am, but I was nothing compared to the truth in the mirror.

I can feel the changes
The ebbs and flow of time

Regardless
Time moves on
Even if I don't
Life and death lies in the constant of the universe
Rich or poor we're bound by
Inevitable, our stars can't change our faith

Someone once said, "life is an illusion and time is real"
Possibly, we're all living a lie
Probably, our essence is in searching for the truth
Whatever that maybe
Nonetheless, time goes on
And I'm trying to find mine
Before it's time.

LanceSkiies

Sunday, August 19, 2018

Sunday
Where I'll be someday
I can't say
Where I'll go
I don't know
Endless directions
Limited options

Can't freeze, can't stall
No time to waste a tall
Obstacles to over come
Walls to be destroyed

I can't say, where I'll be
And I don't know when I'll leave
My hope, it's on my terms
LanceSkiies.

how are you meant
to know what to do
with this one life
which you cannot undo
there is so much
to this thing called reality
getting everything right
seems far from practicality
i'm doing my best
like so many of us are
i just need direction
before i travel too far

If you’re tired of life—
you’re going the wrong direction.

my lower extremities
are coated lightly with
minute shards of glass,
my upper body loose from
chardonnay and sun beams

the water between is only angry because distance is disdain is
disbelief; a family finds solace
in the crashes of sad summer skies
and squinty eyes

i am not happy i am not sad
i am only breathing in the ocean’s
cries for calm, for quiet,
for familiar drunken fights
for love

my sunburn buried deep
solemn claims of reality;
direction is only a force
the stars have put in motion
moons pull me in opposites
but i remain