I'm lazy,
Argumentative,
I drain,
From their incentive,
I'm a pain,
And overly sensitive,
But not enough,
When it comes to pets,
Not an "animal person",
Just not into vets,
I'm so terrible,
yes oh yes,
The worst,
yes oh yes,
Adhd,
Anxiety,
Intrusive thoughts,
Please help me,
No medication,
For the thoughts,
"It's electronics",
Your brain rots,
They hate me,
When I make,
Any sort,
Of mistake,
He blames me,
When somethings missing,
Why can't I be left,
Left alone,
Given privacy,
In our home,
Can't close my door,
Can't have food,
Suspicious to have water,
I wish I could,
Just be left,
To my own devices,
But it's on me,
It's my fault,
That I'm called names,
By an adult,
"Wack",
He sometimes says,
"Lord Help Me".
I need prayers,
Though he never prays,
Outside of me being weird,
I'm a demon for these days.
"Can't wait till you leave",
I can't wait too,
I'm spoiled?
You don't like me though,
It's true.
I'm always the bad one,
Never defended,
Only attacked,
Then I can't be offended?
Okay.

Some days
You just aren’t ready for the sun to blaze
Lazy days
Close the curtain go back to sleep
Falling into abyss
Counting sheep

I have spent my weekend
being less than human
in horizontal positions.
I have spent my weekend
empty and alone,
weeping hard
but only the house could hear it.
I have spent my weekend
mourning the person I was,
how full she was
how vibrant and strong she was.
I have spent my weekend
as nothing more than
a useless blank mass of flesh.
All I ask is that you
please, keep your flowers
from my face.

4/28/2019

That smile you showed,
When he was left out.
Half a second, eased the load,
Brought him from his hideout.

You care for him, to the last,
Even when he's distant.
When he thought he was outcast,
You included him in an instant.

But he selfishly wants your attention,
He craves more, he can't be alone.
He'd do anything in this situation,
But his stupidity swirls like a cyclone.

He becomes like a turbulent child,
Throws a fit to get his way.
Others are easily beguiled,
But is happiness really underway?

Can the void in his heart,
Which was drained long ago,
Be filled when he becomes a bogart?
These actions damage his precarious ego.

He needs your presence;
People who truly care,
Enough to make a difference.
But he can't even tell you're there.

"Father, show him who,
You've sent them into his life,
Even though they're few,
They cut him deep like a knife.

"Let them show him his faults,
He must see for himself,
Let them open the vaults,
Show him what's on the shelf."

You see how he is corrupted.
Despite his rotten core,
Could he be accepted?
You must help him to explore.

It's not what he does,
That determines his fame.
Love sees past broken pieces,
It passes on no shame.

Overcome by greed,
Not a healthy place.
Back-stabbed and buried,
Not a way to run the race.

Overcome by pride,
Not a purposeful existence.
So much left untried,
Not gaining any distance.

He was not satisfied,
So he took a mile.
I know he was terrified,
Cuz I was he - the whole while.

the art of procrastination
is just that -
exactly what it says
on its faded, beaten label -
an art in itself;
a weathered process
that has divided humanity,
much like its more
celebrated
brethren - painting, dancing,
maybe even writing poetry.

the art of procrastination
makes no bones -
it is made of unequal
and ever-changing parts
of chaos and consistency,
passion and practice,
destruction and discipline,
all at once.

it is learning that
you can train yourself
to not feel fearful of
whatever doom is upon you,
but also struggling to stay
just barely afloat
when the tides of said doom
sweep you off your feet.
it is both vain strength
(to think you can outrun Time)
and smart cowardice
(to trust that you can hide from Time)

the art of procrastination
does not beat around the bush -
to master it,
you must walk on the serrations
of a double-edged dagger -
both balance
and falling beyond measure
can ruin the practice
of the oldest art
in all of existence.

4/16/2019

Closed off to the world,
That’s where I’m secure.
Terrified; so up I’ve curled,
Perhaps, this way I will endure.

I fear the unknown,
How can I face it?
I try to argue on my own,
But will the judge acquit?

I am comfortable,
Is that so wrong?
You call me a vegetable,
I resemble that, so I belong.

Can I bridge the gap between?
Is it getting nearer or farther?
I’ll just sit – observe the scene,
Change? What’s the bother?

In the past, this or that,
Not what I thought it’d be.
I can’t stand their chit-chat,
Talking always turns out crumby.

Who predicts the future?
None but God alone.
So I sit here in a stupor,
Apathy – now full-blown.

If I can’t know what to expect,
I might as well not do anything.
Of this – guilty – a viable suspect.
My uselessness: like a napkin ring.

If I venture into newness,
Evil surely awaits.
Positive outcomes in fewness,
I only see dire straits.

Let the world leave me in the dust,
You’ll see if I care!
It’s always been so prejudiced.
As long as I’m happy, that’s fair.

I’ll stay here and be constant,
I’ll let others make mistakes.
Fail? I’m too important.
I mean, for goodness sakes!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I can’t just end this here,
That was me in the past.
My pride – nothing dared interfere.
But God did, the obstacle passed.

I’ve learned more about losing,
I’ve lost more than I’m winning.
My victories, all by God’s choosing,
My choices are all towards learning.

You could me on quote, this:
“I had pride in my humility,”
A contradiction I always miss.
I focus now on vulnerability.

Because when I choose,
To choose spontaneity,
A boring life it eschews.
Abundant life, takes responsibility.

seems like i'm just moving along
convincing myself that nothing's wrong
then i look back and wish things were different
i always keep a certain emotional distance
always jumping between several distractions
while all the plans i made never gained traction

why does it feel good to be lazy
why is doing nothing so easy
i might have something to say
but i'm not gonna do it today

it's a vicious cycle, it never stops
it just keeps on going until i drop
the brake's cut, the pedal's floored
and frankly i'm just feeling bored
i should be my own savior
but i'm always saving it for later

maybe it's time to stop pretending
and admit that this problem's never-ending
the sooner i realize, the better
i can't blame the weather forever

Sitting on an island
Between slumber and work,
Tuning into all the waves that pass me by
I’ve made my big decision
Reason firm set in my mind
But diluted by the breaking of the tide