Where we’ve been,
Where we are…
My only fear is that we can only get so far
Before it’s time to do it all again,
Healing wounds into scars.
We’ve gotten this far.
This game of life is a bargain indeed,
But only when a bargain is what you think you need.
Remember that, remembering back…
We've gotten this far.

So I woke up feeling crushed and sad, my anxiety and my depression were screaming. My intrusive thoughts woke before I did.
So I fight back with hope.
Science and hope until my negativity feels so small in a universe so vast.
So small against the wonder of the universe, how small my hurt is amongst the vast light of countless suns. How insignificant in comparison to the depths of the oceans and the power of storms and solar flares. I am small, so is my hurt, I am strong enough to shoulder and carry it long enough to feel the wonder overtake me.

When I fell in love for the first time
She became my world
But more than that she become a part of me
She was my lungs
She kept me breathing
And cut my air supply as she pleased
And when we broke up I couldn't breathe

I gasped for air on my own for the first time in forever
But nothing came
Clawing at my chest as the pain grew stronger
Begging for air to return
But she was gone
and I felt suffocated for years

Slowly I learned to breathe on my own again
Forcing the air into my body
Often against the wishes of my newly independent *****

When my new love came along
I still struggled at times but I knew I could never trust another with that kind of power ever again
So when it feels as though I do not love her as much as the first
I have to remind myself that although she helps me breathe easy
I've never let myself rely on her so severely as my first
I could never make that mistake again
Because I know that losing a part of me again
Will take all the strength I have left
And none will remain to live

Who am I? What am I?
It's been a while since I cried
Am I a brain on top of a body?
Just processor performing code?
Well, who wrote the code?
Who wrote it?
It's been a while since I was I
I'm not a brain, I have one
I've got hardware put there by Someone else
Who am I?
I'm a computer running software I didn’t write
I'm a soul interacting with a body, a brain
Whose health I neglect on a reg

What am I?
I'm a decaying accumulation of skin
And blood and bone and neurons
I got neurons in my heart
And that's a good place to start
The heart is the mouthpiece of the soul
My identity gets ******* in the whole
Idea of my performance
And my influence
Like if I sing a song badly, my soul takes the hit
And if I lead my partner astray, the whole of me is ****
The whole of me is ****

There's holes in me
But who put them there?
I combust in small increments
My skin flies off in perfect circles
They're fragments
My heart, it's hiding behind these explosions
Hiding behind them because it causes them
Because my mouthpiece is expressing my hate
My lack of love for myself
Hate is just a word we put on the shelf
It's like darkness and coldness
Describing something through absence
Darkness; the absence of light
Coldness; the absence of heat
If hate is the absence of love I might
Just be the one who beats me
Who defeats me
Who carries my heart, my brain, the rest of me
Tied around my neck on a string that I pull through
Like my body is in captivity

I'm privileged to honor this body that I didn’t make
I'm greatly gifted a brain to maintain
My heart, my body, my brain
They shouldn't be strangling me
They shouldn't be dragged through the dirt
They should be a part of me

I am a soul
I have a mouthpiece
My heart is my mouthpiece
My brain is my hardware
That rusts and which I expend

God help me love me
And Who I am
And Who You are

God, make it so apparent to me in my falling out
That I am a part of the three-legged stool
To Love You before all else
To Love everyone else
And to Love myself
Help me see You accurately
God help me
God help this American switch culture
I am not a machine that functions at the flip
Of a switch
I am a soul, a CVT, a cable that climbs up and down
Depending on the speed of the wheels
And decelerating is okay
And (not but) accelerating is wonderful

I do not go 60MPH because I flipped a switch
I go 70MPH because I climb
I climb
God help me climb
And to falter well
And to suffer well
Humble me in my faltering suffering

natural elements
meet
unnatural monuments

primal ingredients
mixed
in a mold of obedience

we'll have none of this
and flee
dull predictability

we weren't meant to be
asleep
through the voyage of history

so we daydream in mutiny
to feed
newborn possibilities

lapse
poor judgement
should've known
claps?
no applaud
please go home
silence
start thinking
should've changed
mileage
we're too far
not explained

Whilst the mist fall
Wiped the window
From this far I could see
Framed hanging picture
Not a modern art, amaze
A view, take my soul with
The talent to portray nature
The beauty, the naked truth
Once man's exploited mind,
Increased thrive for progress
Led to destroy the essence
The source he grew up
Found shelter upon, betrayed
He's ashamed now, to touch
With his bare foot or finger
To feel the poisoned mother
He's brave, to let her bleed
By his vicious weapons

Sometimes I am afraid
to begin something new
because I don't want to end up
just short of my destination
or rather I
don't want to find out if destiny
prefers my misery over my dreams
or maybe it's easier to
never begin in the first place and
I can waste away lying down
instead of dying in the heat of battle

if I start something new I also risk
losing my way  (again)  and
with things as they are
I should avoid new beginnings
I should stay as I am,
stagnant and afraid

yet I long for the feel
of the earth beneath my feet as I
walk forwards
for it is always stable

Where did the last leaves go?
when the winter crept;
weren't they blanketed by the snow
or were they feasted upon by frost?
Either way I've lost track of them.

If I turn over a new leaf,
am I neglecting the ground work
i laid the past ones out on?
Would I be dishonouring those
that have fallen?
will everything up to this point
now lose its relevance, because
time permits its time to drop old
blueprints for fresh leaves?

What if i'm not ready?
What if I still value the progression
of the elder ones?
What if despite seeing those
old designs bleed amber and red
I can still see green?

Times, seasons and things may change
but even from the beginning
of a calendar year;
What is old can be new again,
Those old leaves becoming new ones,
every time I remember to grow
my ambitions with the ideas
ingrained and well rooted within
old desires.
Those are I hope; the last new leaves
I'll ever have to turn.