While the new beginnings I seek,
They are quite a new indeed.
My desire for poetry;
                   for understanding led me,
To see real beauty, it shed me,
To feel it running inside me,
To feel it wanting to burst out,
                                to rule every pain out,
To feel myself on the voyage of discovering me,
                                                        getti­ng to know me.
On my journey to expressing the true me,
Wanting to escape these surreal reveries
                                  that I call the reality.
Banality, the inevitable consequences that face me.
... of it all outermost, inevitability disappoints me
                    the most.

The slippery seeds
of discontent
are spent
on the soft
and fertile soil
of my fractured soul.

Anger fuels
a field of fury
and I push myself
beyond the simple confines
of physical comfort
and a sane mine.

I plant my feet
and feel the soft earth
part and slowly swallow
the portions of me
that are hopelessly hollow.

The rage against
human violence
and the impoverishment
of humanity,
the devastation
of the sharp blades
of heartbreak
from rejection
form a sword
of self-hate
that I use to
cut away
any weeds
that might impede
my growing season.
The pliable dirt,
soft brown earth
allows me to sink in
for the final planting.

All my seeds drop
rage,
pain,
fear,
doubt.

Then in the spring
something unforeseen
comes blooming.

Instead of a sick
and disgusting human thing
full of deformities,
a new creature emerges
for the harvesting.
A long stalk
of self-improvement,
a truly creative,
and compassionate being
is freed,
and I harvest him.
He nourishes me
as I strive to be
the man
I always wanted to be.

No. You’re doing it all wrong. This is not how it’s done.

Why would you even… forget it, I’ll just have to show you.

Listen. When you look up into the sky, those aren’t clouds that you see. Who told you that? See that one, the one that’s a little puffy in the center and has a long end. Yes. That’s a whale. And the one next to it that looks like there’s a hole in the middle, that one is a doorway. That’s where lost things are sent to.

And no, those aren’t just shades. They are spy glasses. So when you wear them at night and look out the window, you get night vision. Go. Take a peek over into the neighbor’s yard. I’m sure I saw a gnome there just last night.

Now, what have I told you about our bed sheet? You need to stack some pillows underneath and get a torch. It’s our tent. And don’t peek outside. I think I just heard a bear scrunching around out there.

Oh and you must, I repeat you must get onto a higher surface when someone screams ‘the floor is lava’. I’m not kidding, lava is red hot, and it will burn you. Jump onto the very next thing you find that’s higher. I really don’t want to get burnt.

Also, I saw what you did last night. You didn’t wish on that shooting star. And I know you think you’re too old for this, and that wishing on a meteor, as you like to call it, is absurd, but I would like to remind you, mister, wishes do come true.

So don’t let the magic inside you die.
Wish on that star and let your imagination run wild.
You will only get to be this old, once in your life.

Who am I?
A whispering babe amidst ten thousands shouts and screams of bloodthirsty warriors.
The gentle nudging of a fawn's tender nose against the brazen rack of her father’s antlers.
I am a wayward summer breeze, getting lost in the winds of a hurricane.
A single drop of wine thrown into a sea of water, longing to be tasted on your lips, untraceable in this vast expanse.
I am every blazing sunrise you slept  through and never got the chance to cherish.
I am each tree left unclimbed, each trail you never turned aside to explore.
I am the waters too deep for your shallow lungs to reach; the ocean floor you only dream of.
I am the tip of every mountain this planet has forced up from the depths: and though you know it is impossible, a hidden part of you longs to stand atop each one of them. That is me.
I am the secret locked in the crystals of a snowflake; and no two hold the same treasure.
I am the hidden variance of a delightful scent in every flower petal.
I am the countries, cultures and corners of
The earth you have never seen or known.
Any time you glimpse a view of the galaxies and ponder to whom this splendor belongs, it is my eyes you gaze at.
Each moment you spend longing for something more, yet not knowing what, is a piece of me in you.
I am so much more than a feeling.
So much more than a though.
I am necessity.
I am your audacity.
I am a force to be reckoned with; something that lingers in your soul long after the music has ceased to resonate.
I am the wailing cry of the heart of humanity: the voice that every mind screams, yet every ear is deaf to.
There is, always has been, and forever will be an inherent need for me. For without me, all of creation would fade away. Without exploration, discovery, and mystery, we would surely perish.
So here I am: pounding on the walls around your spirit with desperate, bloodied fists, begging to be let in. I will persist. I will prevail. Because it is essential. You need me more than the very air you breath, whether you should ever realize it or not. Because without me, you can go about your life alive- but not living.
Who am I?
I
Am
Wanderlust.

i. when completely alone i know what i am.
no, my brain is a liar, is a lie, is a – turn it off.

ii. i run out: on the wildering of my selves.
i trim them down; less to disguise, less to carry.

iii. please take one with you on your way out.
there will not be a chase.