As I sit next to the driver seat--
a small leaf is stuck on the windshield of this hearse.
Focusing on the half alive and half dead nature of it's blades,
I begin to lose touch with the reality around me.

Wondering how this thing is seemingly in a struggle to free itself--
I know the wind is it's true master,
but I can't help imaging an inner struggle,
for it to make a timely retreat to the tree it has fallen from.

Time has etched it's deathly remnants even into this greenery--
sparse edges that I assume were once rounded are jagged spikes.
Each one resembling some torment this leaf has been through,
as the world consumes fragments of what used to be true beauty.

Dangling by it's stem is the last connection
between filling my mind with the nature of leaves,
and other possibilities that have not yet come.

There's a sudden jolt, and the luminescent leaf
takes this final gasp of breath to spring itself from the trap,
perfectly sinking its escape with my own exhale.

As I exit from this car
the realization comes to me
I'll never get to see that leaf again.

I am a rare breed. I'm a soft breeze in the very beginning of fall. The little orange leaf that's fallen off the branch of a forty foot tall tree. I am cardigans and ginger hair braided back with a little daisy chain tucked behind my ears. I am the smell of a new book right if the shelf of Barns And Nobel. I am the leather bound journal used for writing down the secrets God shares with His children. I am twinkly lights hung around white walls. A sweet smelling candle and warm pumpkin pie.

Someday you feel as though you are the last leaf of the autumn’s being
And, the slightest whiff of the wind would ruin the season for all.
You feel that the entire world is woven in the designs on your skin
So intricate, so compact and yet so burdensome, you’d fall.

Grimy, wilted, the worn-out leaf
You were picked upon by the birds on the tree.
Severed as you jump out of the lap of the once lush green,
Floating in the dusty gust was another misery.

Rueful yet rebellious, you longed for wings.
Cos waiting for you in a dark, far-off corner was the gorgeous spring.
Denuded lands could offer only so much cover.
So as the days grew darker, fearful became the vernal queen.

On your tiny back you bear the brunt of sins of your land
Your gait exudes the weariness, the heart exudes the desire.
The infallible falls but never does he fail.
From the endless scars on your body leaks the vengeful ire.  

You were after all, the last leaf of the fall,
the last synapse to sanity, the curtain to the wonderful show.
Your pace slowed down, and each time the mercury rose,
Spring died a little.

Trees blow in the wind
Leaves jump into the unknown
Power provokes flight

This is going to be kind of like a journal entry. I never keep a journal,
but I feel like doing it, so I'm going to do it. It's like, the first step in a
long line of many, mini steps. Almost ready. I feel like I should stretch
out before I start. Ballistic. You know, like a fighter or something.
Okay. Here I go.

Right now I'm stuck in this little bubble. I got put here by some trouble
just a few years ago. Man, it was ****** up ****, like the most ****** up I've ever been in. Life, as they say, got the best of me. **** came first, then beer all day er'day, spending my living living with some ****** up ***** who's bad with money. We matched 'cause I'm ****** up. I ****** up, 'cause I shut up. First time lifestyle collaborator, so it was like, man what-am-uh-gonna-say? I feel love and I've been conditioned to just ride that **** with pride on your ****. Don't tell me I don't know what I want man. I've got my head on straight. Don't hate. Haters can't appreciate romance, bro. Come back when you learn that, yo. I don't blame the drugs, so I kept 'em when we left together, but
in different directions. Live-in gone. Foundation rot. Suspension shot.
****! **** **** ****! I hit ground with my teeth. Instead of asking
for help when it was needed I took help that kept me breathing
till I could ***** my head on almost too many terrible months in
the future which I never thought I would see in fruition, and I admit
in volition that (cough) (cough) I almost lost myself totally, ******* stripped of the holy one and only. One and only.

We've. Received. Bad vibes.

So now there's nearly nothing to my name unless you count the
meter it retains. But I've got flies in my pocket that I sprinkle
for pepper in my popcorn bag. There's no space for me here but
there's vacancy in the matrix. And I see the signs lit up. Being
singular not enough? I'd rather be rich and ubiquitous than poor
and bored while I whittle the days away, feeding my head with
whatever's left from original message I received. I've opened that **** and I tried it on for 23, pressed to impress but it wasn't me.
Listen when I say it, 'cause I'm serious, now that my name is
worthless what could it hurt to burn some synapses and knight
myself? After all I don't count on being rescued from this hell.
What's my name? Anything will do. But it's got to be very memorable
and cool. How should I glow when I get outta this cocoon? Take
it to the Max. Normal won't do, 'cause it's gotta be catchy for the
TV and YouTube. I won't be a copycat, no, never. It's just gonna be the
me that I've eternally received only under my belt, tight to the
extreme.

Like. The lost. Before.

l(a
le
af
fa
ll
s)
one
l
iness

This is my story.
Do not assume that you
Are the hero, even though

I dedicated a lot of

Lengthy chapters to you.

You are just a
Leaf passing through,
Leaving a slight impression

On a few pages and

A pop of colour among

Some black and white words.

You are a spot of blue ink

Left in the corner, as I wrote

Quickly and passionately

On white blank pages.

You are the muse I loved

Enough to write into my story
And spend time nurturing,
Creating something beautiful
However long it may have lasted.

But do not forget,
Even for a second that

This is my story.

However incomplete or

nonsensical it may seem.
However narcissistic I may sound.
How many ever hours

I spent crafting it.

Rough

Draft

Over

Rough

Draft.
**
This is my story.