the condition of my mental health is a never-ending cycle and it always begins or returns to the clouds they come from nowhere on a clear and sunny day covering any form of light not letting anyone in with every task, they become darker rounder threatening to explode until they do and once they do it becomes a thunderstorm i am a sailor lost at sea can never find the way to be happy the rain washes away any hope that may remain my thoughts mix into one i pull myself apart one part by one my voice no longer mine they say there's a calm after every storm but mine never seems near i'm either facing the clouds or the tears
My thoughts They are messed up or Am I messed up? Say anything please, anything at all. I just want to hear a familiar voice I also want to know what's out there Will you please talk to me? Will you just give me one moment? And then I promise, you can go Until then your voice... will suffice I don’t understand human needs I never have I didn't choose this It’s as if they’ve chosen me all along You chose me You would never say though, would you? You keep your thoughts inside that mind How do you have the mental capacity? Messy thoughts It won’t let those thoughts out. You’re guarded, why are you guarded? Who made you suffer? Made you the way you are... Because even though it aches, it made you so beautiful Flawless, without effort If you knew me before everything. If we were together in another life. My lips sewn shut, my hands bound And my thoughts are disoriented.
Bukowski said You can't beat death You can beat death in life, sometimes
And I know that I've always known that We all always know that But fog is thick when the storm comes When lightning blinds the eyes of Those that are out looking For their runaway pet or a shelter to hide under But lightning is still a light In the dark There's a blindingly bright flash And so storms Are new courage to me If I don't succumb to the elements Those blinding lights in the sky Can show me shelter And I'll find it You'll find it And the storm will pass Clouds will go from black to grey And when you find it Hold it close, ******
Because like Bukowski said You can't beat death You can beat death in life, sometimes
I saw a dead baby bird on the ground one day as a kid. It had fallen from its nest much too soon and must have died upon impact. Or maybe it died in the nest and fell afterwards. That's mortality. That's fragility. That's a god ****** metaphor for everything. And nature beat me to the punch.
Time is a man Whose suit doesn't fit him quite right Who has a cat that sleeps with him nearly every night Time is a woman Who questions the name she was given at birth And paces in circles through her kitchen until 2 am Time is a child Who was once young but is now hiding in laughter Behind pints in a dingy bar Time is an orchestra Whose sheet music blew away in the wind And is relying on memory to take its place Time is a ******* Of willful regret and sinful inaction Of brow furled unease and gleeful distraction
So I wait, you wait, and we all wait. Time will make us as we're meant to be The religious and academic minds bicker For time is the cause of reason And the cause of joy And sadness And despair And everything else
Time is a man with nothing on his mind And with empty pockets That he says are full of ungranted wishes Like a little sack of joy purchased on a street corner
And time is in us all and we are of it So make of that as you will
And I asked him, I said, "What was the first thought you had as a child?" "You know, before consciousness took hold?" He looked at me confused in the mirror "What was the first thought you had when you woke up this morning?" He uttered in reply
****** out to deafen the thoughts of Situations replaying in my head I said and I meant every one of those words In these imaginary scenarios That never happen, a circumstance of my action or inaction Attention This is a breaking news headline One insignificant man thinks he's dying And now he's crying and calling up his friends To complain, always the same, always out of luck and out of his mind I swear to god this **** runs thick Like every chance I get I hop on board And then get told to get back off and wait my turn It's a pain, and I get used to it sometimes But I'd be lying if I said it ain't still a crying shame When I get in line on time but still miss the train... Of thought is off track again, back in Unhealthy places and I know it's not right How I'm never comfortable With the comfortable and lay awake at night At 2 am, 3 am, 4 am, and the sun's up again I guess it's time To pick myself up for another round A cage match, nothing but fists And I'm on myself again, boy am I winning this time Where was I going with this? Wait where am I at now? ****, man, if that isn't a metaphor for how I've been living my life It's done, poems up, everyone go home
**** the butterflies while they're still caterpillars Because they might just be moths in the end That live for nothing more than soaking in your light And beating their heads and wings against the bulb until it goes out
**** the optimism that we're all born with Because it'll sink underground with you one day And the people, the mourners, they'll all gather to grieve Reliving a dead man's struggles as if they were their own
**** your honesty because no absolutes exist in this world No truth nor lie means anything more than you do And you mean a lot, you know you mean so much So **** the worries and **** the obligation you put on your poor soul
**** your heart and let it bleed dry just one more time, love Because no tree ever grew without shedding a few leaves No tower was ever built without a hole dug for a new foundation So **** your past and even your present, but live on and embrace the unexpected