It happens with all the holes and wounds: they grow their own face, mend their gaps, heal their rifts — those new skills of yours are but entities that emerge: to grant shelter, to stand guard, replace the old, thicken the crust, weather this human storm — through and through.

But will the skin ever return to its soil? It linger on forevermore. How tight its grip? How hardened its sappy brooks? When will it nourish those delicate roots anew?

These thoughts arise as doubt breaks free. It pours and flows as I gaze down and lower still. Shadows seep and leak as the wheel spins and drills the soul evermore hollow. Anonymous is our tree of life, but it keeps faces in store.

For it happens with all the holes and wounds: they bleed, they mend, they heal — and what don't they do as I stand here, as I bend, as I kneel — as I carve these seats in shapes of departure. Those skills thicken under my feet like growling tremors.

My past was but a dream — and I'm ready to slide like a crumbling leaf. My weariness is universal. My knowledge heavy. There cannot be a conclusion. I am growing thin.

Let me feed those roots anew.
Through and through.

Dare I say,
I take it day by day.

Moments of play,
Sculpted like clay.

But a thought to die
Pops up in my mind.

My mind,
Once flourished
Turns decayed,
Malnourished.

It captures my brain.

Perhaps I'm insane?

But on the outside,
I am sane.

No worry
To come my way.

All is well,
I know,
For that will stay the same.

It cannot change,
I CANNOT BE THIS WAY.

But alas,
I am.
I fall ill
In earth's hands.

For now
I carry utter guilt,
And blame.

What a shame.

they see the facade, the academic veneer,
but the truth lies hidden, only i hold it dear

the world believes success is all i chase
but i question if i’m running in the right race
i question what truly this journey is worth
am i just building castles on this shifting earth?

amidst textbooks and deadlines, i quietly yearn
for answers not found in a grade i might earn
will this path i’ve chosen be my true fate?
or will i wake up one day, realizing it’s too late?

so when they call me hardworking and bright,
i smile on the surface, hide my inner fight
for behind the facade, the mask i wear,
lies a soul pleading,
“Lord, hear my prayer.”

Exhaustion is a thousand starving mouths;
Insomnia, a single gnawing doubt.

I want to do as I please
To soar like a bird, wild and free.
I want to rid me my mask
To show my face at long last.
Yet I fear spreading my wings
To let the breeze kiss my skin.
I feel doubt crawl over me
Creeping like vines of poison ivy.
What if my wings don't spread?
What if they're just arms instead?
What if my mask hides not a face?
What if it's all just empty space?
What if I don't find malleable clay?
What if it's stone, all in decay?

Soft, sweet and bright,
to the dark night of my soul,
she brought light,
she showed me love and care,
beyond what I had ever felt,
with that came a deep fear,
so used to the unrequited,
perhaps i was too shortsighted.

Maybe i lacked the faith to believe we could sustain a covenant commitment,
Maybe things moved too fast and we just needed an intermission,
So much laughter and vulnerability,
So much peace and joy,
How could i let that go,
some part of me will always wonder,
if i didn't believe in the power,
How did i let love leave at the 11th hour?

the heroes of
those action movies
from the 80s and 90s
always looked
so much cooler
with their split lips
and bloodied noses
than i ever could
as they faced off
against the villain
   of the piece
bruised and aching
they would struggle on
regardless of pain
their success set back
but inevitable nonetheless

to be honest
i would love to see
one of those heroes
try to overcome
the villain
   of my peace
i've had plenty
of nose bleeds
through the years
but most of them
self-inflected