alan Jul 2

And we open our eyes to the A and B and C
but what do we say if we can't see the way to be free?
And we close our eyes to the 1 and 2 and 3
but what about when we are done with the run in the sea?

i dont know !

I. Intensity
I feel it. Every step. Every breath. It's there. I feel it. In the air. In the trees.  In the sunshine. In the rain. It's everywhere. It's in my bones. It's in the world. I wasn't prepared for this and I don't know what to do now. My heart feels heavy like the weight of my own personal planet. Loss and grief, they're such big things but they come to you in waves and believe me, when they try to take you back to shore, it hurts like hell and you feel it everywhere. I tried to avoid this, tried to lodge it out of my mind but it simply isn't possible. I think I'm spiraling out of control but the only person who can help me is--myself.
II. Disbelief
Roses on a casket. Touching your  hand for the last time. Tears, lots of them. Legs are shaking. Awkward hugs and handshakes. This isn't actually happening, is it? My world doesn't feel right without you and somehow I'm still expecting to come home to your smiling face. People ask me how I'm doing-- "Oh, I'm fine." I don't have the courage to be honest and tell them I'm actually a string from falling  apart. If I don't want to deal with the weight of my own emotions, why would anyone else?   Following the how I'm doing, I get the "What can I do for you?" "Oh I don't know...make my heart feel like less of a planet and make like a body part." I don't say that, of course.  I thank them for their compassion and say I don't need a thing.  
III. Numb
I put one foot in front of the other. I must find the strength to move forward. It's been two weeks now. After being consumed whole by the weight of my own emotions, I have reached the transition  from "too much" to "almost nothing at all."  At the start of this, I didn't know what to do...and I still don't know what to do. I wish there was some sort of instructional booklet for the grieving process.  Emotions, conversations, embraces-- they all start to blend together even though they're all so different.  I feel distant but not lost. I know where I am. I am still moving but somehow I feel like I'm stationary. How do I move closer? How do I not lose myself completely? Grieving, it takes different shapes. It's like a ghost that is always lingering but only makes its presence known in the worst  of your moments.

Yen Apr 8

S he will forget the
U nwelcomed pain and
I  nevitably welcome the
C omfort 
I  t offers
D ecline
E verything that hurts

A nd remember only the
N ice 
D reams she had before she

R ests
E ternally and
G ratefully in the comforts of her
R emains on
E arth.
T his day doesn't end without a good bye.

fight the need to pull the thorn, kill yourself to be reborn,
live your life in fear of death, clinging to your final breath
harm done even when you win, pride is such a deadly sin
count me out or count me in, til the day the world wont spin
fine me for my will to be, tax the squirrel the use the tree
sell my insides, scamming me, nothing in this world is free
shaping, taping back together, taking, raking all your splendor
faking, making us pretenders, facing, gaping black forever
bring me down and ream me out, fill me up with hate and doubt
tender fetal origins, generations' collagen
lets go out and hit the town, shoot one up and knock one down
binding, winding, finding sound, listening to my heart pound
bursting vessels 'round the socket, ball it up into my pocket
flyin higher than a rocket, once you've tried it, try and knock it
asking nice to get inside; soiled, rotten, blushing bride
with her hands between her thighs, only wishing for surprise
see our circle dissipate, seems i've found you just too late
all im left with is my hate, and the need to procreate
lose your temper, mind and soul, listen to the blackness roll
deaths compile and raise the toll, what secrets does the future hold?
wretched roaches writhe and run, while rancid tyrants toll the sun
leeches, peaches, pears and plums, kill me when my birthday comes

You told me you'd love me through the storm but as the sun began to disappear with the clouds, so did you. I never claimed to be a sunny day but I'm not a hurricane either. You made it seem as if I was causing havoc and tearing down houses. There were days where the clouds almost swallowed me whole and the rain couldn't seem to stop but you said it wasn't anything you couldn't handle. I used to be a sunny day with flowers sprouting and birds singing but there are things in life that change us and shape us into something different than what we once were. Damn it, I just wanted you to stay. With each strike of lighting, I remember how it felt when you first kissed me. With each clap of thunder, I remember how it felt when you walked away. But don't you worry, I'm going to find someone to love me through the storm. Someone that doesn't run away at the sight of lighting. Someone that holds my hand through the thunder. I used to think I was too much for you but you weren't enough for me. This was never about me. Love isn't supposed to be a sunny day--it's a storm. But if you stick around through the difficult times, you'll get to see the sun peek through the clouds.

Robert Zheng Feb 11

I have come to you
Of my own accord

With broken hands and brittle heart
With fragile mind and fractioned soul

These tears of mine are part a toll
Till toll the bell o’er gentle knoll

Into the sun and by my birth
Once again a mewling foal

Fall will come and cold will break
Yet again for heaven’s sake

I like to write poems as a sort of flow of consciousness just to see what comes out. Generally, it doesn't make coherent sense, but I feel it still reflects my mindset at the time of writing.

Creating music is so beautiful because in most cases it requires human breath
You give it something that is yours
Something that rested near you heart
And sat on your soul
If filled you
And you use it to fill others
To touch their hearts
To speak to their souls
Music is alive because you make it so
There is nothing robotic or ordinary about it
It's a living breathing thing
Music is a part of you
Your heart pumps to a beat
The veins pulse the same way
You literally have rhythm flowing through your veins
Do you realize you are a creation of rhythm and music
And culmination of gorgeous pulses and beats
The blood carries oxygen to your cells
That oxygen brings sound to your instrument
That blood courses with a beat
We are all made of music
All music is made of us

Krystal Lèleck Dec 2016

The second golden hour
Of the day is divine
This time of the day
Is a favorite of mine

Shadows grow darker
Edges become blurred
All day and all night is ours
All we have is words

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