My melodious fire
Waves and weaves
Making a murder of wood
Delivering a birth of smoke
Those swirling cinders choking
Everything in sight
Breathing in one of death’s contagions
One by one they fall
Until there’s no call to order
Until there’s none left to perform for
The mob grew angry
My wrists, my ankles
Chained with briars
This an execution by my own desire
For I required an exit light here
Unclear liar lost in his lies here
Fear-shaken, no stakes in truth,
Fear-faking, I have no stake in you
So I pull up stakes
I have no clue what I’m going to do
I get lost in myself
But myself I have yet to choose
These paradoxes and riddles
That plague and peeve my mind
Deceive me as I deceive them
Till we’re all left deceiving in kind
Till the other becomes the self
And the self melts away from being the better
Cluttered with curses from the past
This incompatible software overheats
And now we’re back—
I was once blind to such simple facts
Broken, silly tracks of thought off-track
Lines left carved up in the sand
The next day wiped away
By nature’s erasure or another’s hand
It is sand after all
But I gave up a pair
Received my true third eye
It's blind to these facts
The grains look all turned up and twisted
Spilling from my clenched fist
Like they’re seconds in my hourglass
So, my fellow pair-holders, I ask
Why take a second to grasp
So that a second in turn is given?
I see no bargain driven
Just a reality
If you livin’ happily, serenely
You must be trippin’
promises of love
we believe we are grown
but inside of us
just under the surface
is a child wanting to be comforted
to be loved
so we hide this part of us
the colours in our mind slowly dying
because they say to keep something maintained you
must nourish it
but the nourishment we need
and this makes our palettes grey
resorting to unorthodox versions of what we need
crutches and supports
that people refuse to speak about
the childhood friend
that moved away
when you were young
unable to cohere as to why
they couldn't stay
wrapped in the dreamland
of explosive joy
It’s waking up in your t-shirt and having to acknowledge the sun while wishing for the night to come back.
It’s getting in the shower and balling my eyes out because I know that’s the only time no one will hear me.
It’s disguising myself with foundation and winging my eyeliner because maybe then nobody will notice the way my hands are shaking and how the circles under my eyes look a lot like black holes.
It’s driving to work at 65 miles an hour praying something will happen in the 10 minutes it takes me to get to work, so I don’t have to lie to myself and everyone else by smiling and telling everyone I’m okay.
You used to care about that stuff until holding my bones together at night no longer meant anything in the morning.
I am a simple man –
I still enjoy the lost art of
washing your hands before and after
using the bathroom,
I find courage in the occasionally tap on the back,
when everything goes dark,
and the back alley looks like a modern piece of art.
I try not to live the same day over and over again, but,
somehow, I end up making the same mistakes,
closing all the doors that are left open
I’m never early to a party.
I’m never late, either. I just don’t get invited anymore.
When I was little, I was mesmerized
by the choir of voices in my head –
now I’m just irritated by their meaningless noise.
The 4 rooms seem smaller and things are moving like crazy –
it’s like an earthquake inside this heart of mine
that’s behaving from time to time
like a lady with high heels and low standards.
I am a simple man –
I manage to complicate everything
in the simplest way.
Elegant body with wilting eyes
If you don't know you
How can anyone know you
They will only consider
What they have been told
They'll have it out for you
Oh yes they always do
Sneering and jabbering
Judge you and misuse you
Be strong being of beauty
Or the ignorance of others
Will damage your subtle mind
I think what people don’t understand about what I’m going through is that it’s not a connection I’m able to bond with someone over. It’s not like asking about the weather.
I fucking hate the weather.
I mean I love the weather.
But how do you talk about the rush of swallowing rain drops like honey, sitting at the bottom of your tea…to someone who’s protecting their eyes from the sun?
See, my anxiety isn’t cool.
It’s my boss asking how I’m doing and me telling her “I’m tired, but I’m doing good”. It’s her asking if I’ve ever tried melatonin at night to help me sleep.
It’s me saying “Yeah, once or twice” and meaning “I’ve been taking narcotics since I was 16, but I had to ween myself off of them because I’m too nervous to call the pharmacy back”.
It’s not that I don’t sleep.
It’s that I won’t sleep.
Because I can’t sleep.
Because these voices plant seeds in the dark patches of soil underneath my eyes and I have to let them grow or else I might die.
It’s not that I haven’t tried sleeping, it’s just that sleeping is hard when you know you have to wake up the next morning.
People don’t understand that wearing the same hoodie for 4 days and not leaving my room for 3, isn’t because I’m lazy or unorganized.
It’s because I haven’t found the motivation to look for the keys that unlock the chains around my ankles that have me shackled to my bed.
Please don’t ask me to go to lunch with you, I won’t be able to sit and have a conversation with you for longer than 10 minutes before I say “I have to go to the bathroom, I’ll be right back”, and that isn’t me using the toilet for anything other than bowing my head in shame, as I throw up the poison and acid in my stomach that I pretended was food.
You’ll ask me “Is that all you’re going to eat? You barely ate anything” and I’ll smile and say “Yeah I wasn’t really that hungry. I had a big breakfast….3 days ago”.
My arms are not an optical illusion.
But if you look at them long enough, I’m sure you’ll see the words to my poems written between the lines.
Don’t ask me about them because I’ll want to tell you about how I never listened to my mom when she told me not to run with scissors.
But I won’t.
I’ll butter it up and tell you that The Lion King is my favorite movie and that my cats name is Scar.
But you’ll tell me you never really liked cats, you’re more of a dog person.
I’m not quiet.
It’s just that most of the time I don’t have anything “socially acceptable” to talk about.
I’m not quiet, I’m not tired…well I am tired.
Jesus fuck I’m always so fucking tired. But I’m aware.
I think that’s what a lot of people don’t understand.
My story isn’t written in ink on pretty piece of stationary. It’s not squeezing a stress ball because I have an exam at 8 in the morning. It’s not wearing all black. It’s not eating almonds for dinner. It’s not heartbreak. It’s not falling leaves or stars in the sky.
It’s summer, spring, fall and winter all tied up in a nest of knots, sewn together with every vein in my body.
It’s 7 journals, in 6 months with 27 suicide notes, 4 hospitalizations and a dozen different letters I’ve written to the voices inside my head.
It’s 13 pills a day kissed by bottle of wine every night.
It’s not a symbol of beauty, it’s a form of torture.
And that’s what people don’t understand.
Nothing could ever scare me
Or hurt me for that matter
With no intentions to bow to the weak and inconsiderate idea of fear
No moment is too big
No journey too long
I a m u n s t o p p a b l e
Nothing on this earth could ever stop me
Or make me quiver
Fear will never stand in my way
For a thousand years I will stand tall
Never to back down from anything
There is nothing I can imagine that would ever scare me
Until that day
The day you left
As I sit here we see what's lost
I also think of the cost
Though not lost but merely stored away
Knowing I'll stop being sad someday
We tore each other apart like hyena to prey
I wish that was all I had to say
I wish you loved what your worth was
Because I've seen your glow and what a buzz
One you don't take as a drug, one you soak in
But I don't think that's what you were sellin'
I swore someday's were my hell
But to you I couldn't tell
Captivated by your victims widow
To help you get strong, but not to kill me though
You need to have more self conviction
For something good not to sate addiction
For you sit upon a golden throne
But here now being a sense of all alone
You need to find that little you is hurt
And learn to find self comfort
Take care of you before you find a host
Your face is that of a ghost
Lost in expression of attachment and shame
Being pressured by self blame
The only advice I have for you
Is to only change the choices you do
Because the real you is always there
Waiting for you to take her hand and adventure
I wish my words to be of encouragement
But to bring light to your inner happy sentiment
I know you have the power of choice
But one more time, believe in me and rejoice
For you know the power of my words
Flowing like Sheppards to herds
Truth in my every breath
But I'm blind to your meth
Flawless in deliverance and passion
That make me start lashin
A regret I carry like a scar on my lung
My neck sore from always being hung
But I can't let this overcome my compassion
That I have to give, here, I cash in
I can't be a comparison anymore
I'm sadly, strongly, powerfully closing this door
I repeat once more because I know
That this will help you go
That I wish you the absolute best
And you are capable of facing your test
But remember that you can't give slack
Because you might tumble back
You need faith in your solitude
You'll find life in mind and passion in mood
I do not mean to appear rude
I say this calmly with no attitude
I say this lovingly not prude
You truly can be loved my past love
Know your grandmother sees you from above
Making another sick joke to you
As words of encouragement of what to do
Find love, get lost, go run around the world
Don't wait up please move on from me
Take what you've learned and go see
That there is so much better out there
But what I do know and dare
Is that I know this door will be unlock
If you find yourself going amok
Just don't abuse this right
Just go, don't knock, please find new light. -Lo