The wringer is no place for a damaged shirt to be.
It may be torn or ripped in its most fragile state.
It may not come back to you the same as it did when it entered, losing a part of what it was.
But you have no choice,
because it's the only shirt you have
and you need it today.
You need it everyday.
But every time you put your shirt through the wringer, you're risking the loss.
Be patient.
Be gentle.
your old shirt.
It's all you have.
If you loose it then what?
Set it out to dry and
let it be.

Happiness and reflection,
Both flow a different direction.
The unrealistic expectation of perfection.
leaves you with little protection.

The loveliest moments in life are reflected.
It's the only wound in my brain that I've dissected.
My actions drove you away, my madness now manifested.
A strong desire to be away from me, the only emotion detected.

Giving your body and desires to someone you barely know, I Suspect.
All humans can say, fighting daily for happiness requires rare intellect.
Emotions flood my organs with panic, we have the same worth as an insect.
The daily struggle of optimism is more difficult than learning a new dialect.

Free your mind, let those sadistic memories fade.
Somehow,forgetting you was the roughest choice I've ever made.
Yet, the loveliest moments in life are soon to explode like a grenade.
Give your heart to the lord; Over time, blessings will multiply.

DO NOT BEG FOR HER,
Life is too short for a personal crusade.
In this world, the most humble often go insane.
God shall stay from day to day.

Your eyes stuck in my mind,
My eyes wonder, make me blind
I am at my brightest when neglected.
GOD AND MAN: FOREVER CONNECTED.

Don't feel spiteful because of memories never made.
When abandoned, stay grateful, for our father's love shall never fade.

I always walk up the stairs with a cup of tea filled to the brim. Not even walking just taking small steps periodically just in case the tea spilled. Sometimes I made it to the top and sometimes I spilled it and I would have to come back downstairs, go the the kitchen, get a paper towel, wipe up the mess, throw the paper towel away and try again.

It was a very tedious Task.

My mother used to yell at me for the times I get too lazy to clean up the mess and just allow the tea to dry up on the floor to stick.

When I was twelve I realized how many times I allowed the tea to dry up. Most of the time I didn't even care if all the tea spilled by the time I got to the last staircase. The boiling hot tea spilling on my feet and the carpet and the granite didn't bother me. My mind was wayward- somewhere unknown. My thought process didn't care to think about my mother after a hard days work coming home to yell at her old enough daughter to stop drinking upstairs. She used to get so mad at me sometimes wondering why I always said "I don't care,".

She used to despise me for it, and I did too.

Maybe I liked how the tea burned my feet causing me to walk faster, maybe I liked the pain. Maybe I was too busy to care about the abundance of spills maybe I wasn't. Maybe I just didn't care.

The whole world stopped spinning for me but my mind didn't. I loved leaving a trail of sweet hot tea for me to follow again and again, my mother didn't.

Finally my mother broke all the teacups and threw away all the tea we had in the house. In all honesty I freaked out. I could've ripped the whole house from its foundation and throw it toward the horizon. I could've take matches and burn the place down letting its ashes fill the toxic sky. I could've done all of that.

But I didn't. I disintegrated into my covers and let my bed seep me in, like tea leaves brewing. I was brewing.

And like the perfect cup of tea, I finally became that dark, rich color with the perfect amount of milk and sugar, placed onto a saucer that was the right size. I the ridges kept me in place and the walk upstairs wasn't so bad anymore.

Devilish blue eyes, frozen gaze.
Influencing me against my will,
Submitting into dropping defenses.
Overcome with an inability to escape,
I become bound by those piercing eyes.

Sapping once kinder thoughts,
Replaced by detached isolation.
Shuttering at the crack of the whip,
Blindly I walk to death.
Carved flesh ammunition against
You, weakness exposed.

Lacerations to the heart exchanged,
Milky fog clouds my oppressor.
Pieces held together by hatred,
One blow away from cracking.
Further into broken self.
All freedoms come at a cost.

To smile in the face of adversity is to overcome.

Humans are afraid of the dark,
afraid of what's lurking in the shadows.

We create these monsters with our imaginations,
thinking it is entirely possible for a
6 ft tall
8 ft wide monster
with a twisted face and body
to be living under our beds
or in our closets.

Or even worse,

in the shadow only a foot away.

But,
the thing is,
there is no monster in the shadow.
It is not a tangible beast that is looming over us
in the small part of the room
where the light does not touch.

When humans look into shadows
they are not seeing a foreign beast about to feast,
No.

What we see in the shadows is the reflection
of the Darkness that is inside of us,
of all humans.

We see,
without understanding what it is,
a creature in the shadows
that is capable of extreme harm
to us and to others,
and they are frightening beasts.

These creatures we imagine do not exist,
but that Darkness,
the Darkness that creates the beast,
that does exist.

Some spend their entire lives running from it.
Some never have to fear it.
Others let it consume them.

Keep Away From The Shadow 'man.
Find your inner light and keep it safe,
Protect it,
and use it to fend off the shadows inside.

Just a happy mistake huh.
Just a mishap of something I can't control?
Or is it even a mishap at all my dear,
Is what I pay such a negative toll?

Do I pay for my emotions?
Pay for my complete command?
Or is it something else.
Something in which I actually had a hand.

See I think this process was mine.
This burden is mine to bear.
Because one can only run so long
Before he forgets, and his past becomes thin air.

No, this was my doing.
I'm convinced of that much for sure.
Over time it always gets easier.
Easier and easier to blur

The lines I walk in, color between, and live by.
My life is my own creation
Is it true what you said?
Could this honestly be my salvation?

This separation of mind and body.
Soul and flesh ripped apart.
Or was it more graceful and intentional,
A precision cut above my heart.

See my body bears no scars,
No music bars for clefts of my past.
But my mind is white with the memories.
It's hardened, and these scars are the ones that last.

It was my own doing indeed.
That much I'll admit.
I dragged the knife across my thoughts.
Again and again, I made them fit.

Fit my desires and my ability,
Fit my tolerance for pain.
But how can one expect an end to suffering,
When pain is the vehicle of gain?

No, my knife is bloodied.
Used far more than you'll ever know.
I dragged my knife across my emotions.
So now, they simply never show.

It only takes one scar to begin a collection.
One cut to begin an addiction.
One taste to begin the obsession.
And one life to maintain the pure fiction.

That to overcome pain, one must accept it.
To defeat pain, one must welcome it.
I have overcome my pain my friend.
And with it, the rest of it.

The rest is gone too.
Oh, sweet, sweet irony.
A happy mistake indeed my dear.
The happy mistake is trusting me.

To Live -
What more can there be to ask?
I am alive,
And continue to thrive.
Into every life comes tregedy.
Everyone needs to overcome.
Finding forgiveness fulfills the need.
Acceptance is the solution.
When I surrender
Is when I win.
And then there is this:
I Love You.

One year ago today I hopped on a plane by myself for the first time.
One year ago today I laid my eyes on you for the first time.
One year ago today my hands held you for the first time.
One year ago today my ears heard you for the first time.
One year ago today my lips brushed against yours for the first time.
One year ago today my heart began to beat for the first time.
One year ago today I knew for the first time.