to sit by quietly and
feel the freshness in the air
enter my lungs as I breathe in a new day
would be a wondrous feat to say the least, I'd think
to not have to worry or
feel the weight of too many lives
enter the ever growing pool that is my misery
would be a curse in disguise for without it, I can not write,
I wonder how many times you have climbed into a tub and thought,
"Wow maybe I could drown in hopes of escaping my life."
I dont know how many of you have thought that but let's just say a few.
One: I step into the tub with my left foot and the water is immensely warm.
Downing pills couldn't be that bad right now.
Maybe I could grab the bottle without anybody noticing.
I wonder if I could make my own concoction of medicine would suffice.
Concoction is a funny word.
Two: I step in with my right foot and everything is tingling from the heat.
If I charge my phone from the plug over there by the sink,
Could I electrocute myself?
I wonder how bad electrocution hurts.
Deep fried food would be nice right now.
Three: I sink into the tub and pull my knees to my chest.
if I lay back now and fight myself from breathing,
Could I do it?
I wonder how long it takes somebody to drown themselves in a tub while fighting their instinct to survive.
I could adapt and grow gills.
Four: I lay back into my tub and watch the water rise.
The water is warm and my body is heavy.
I can't kill myself because my headstone will be something sad,
My funeral will play music I'll hate listening to as a ghost,
People I don't even know will show up.
What if my ex shows up?
Five: I sink lower into the water until I can no longer hear clearly and it tickles the side of my eyes.
What's the point in breathing.
Breathing is so weird.
Why do I have to maintain a body that's going to die anyways?
I wonder what dying feels like.
Six: I've been in here for an hour. Maybe I should get out.
This water has turned mildly lukewarm.
I'd like to stay but I'm getting kinda cold and I like the warmth.
Could I just empty half and add more hot water?
I am sitting in a pool of my own dirt.
Seven: I'm climbing out while simultaneously pulling the stopper.
Theres so many different ways to say that you or somebody is dying;
Kick the bucket.
Pull the plug.
One foot in the grave.
Bite the dust.
Some of them are kinda funny.
Eight: Realizing that I love baths but hate the thoughts that come with the quiet bathroom.
The mental kind of exhausted.
Can I stop now?
Can I just lay down and close my eyes?
My anxiety is overworking me.
Nine: I open my door with a stiff towel and a cold room.
I love the quiet but the quiet kills.
I love my mind yet the way it works is poisonous to me.
In my empty bedroom.
The ships that pass on the open waters of the Channel
Under falling stars
There is no better peace
Than waves along the bow;
Wind in the steadfast sails;
And a crisp sea breeze.
As I look up to the vastness of the stars
I come to find
It is not much different than our beautiful sea:
What stars fall to oblivion,
Never to been seen again.
Deep in the forest sound
All is lost in mellow ground.
The birds don't chirp
And the leaves lay no alarm,
Deep in a place where none
Are ever harmed.
And the bark twists
In an awful way,
And the wind hisses
For travelers to go away.
Deep in a place
Of eternal stay.
Those who are brief
Never receive welcome.
All that you do,
Is never replayed.
All that you say
Gets buried in the ground.
No peeping eyes
No ears of another
Deep in the forest sound
You can let out
All that raging thunder.
A place of secrets,
Your only personal wonder.
Deep in the forest sound.
There is a place
Where moonbeams can be spun into silk
And shadows are as soft as velvet.
Where even time himself has paused to admire
The star-lanes embroidering the sky.
Where whispering ferns uncoil
To have their edges painted silver.
Where flora flirt, and you respond
With the faintest blush -
A playful petal on your cheek.
Where night-thinkers hum in an intertwining dissonance
Weaving a pleasant acoustic haze
Amidst a rhythm discernible to those
I am maintaining an FB account
Posting intellectual stuff only,
Things that stir the mind of my social-networking friends
By this, they will perceive me as a deep person
I am an usher in a Christian church
Giving my biggest effort to serve,
Accommodating and presentable as possible
For people to think that I am mature
I have my own network of friends
Where I can express hope, faith, and love
(In times of despair and grief, at least make it
sound that you are overcoming it)
To portray that I am reliable, independent, and a man of faith
But here in our secret place
Everything is authentic, real, and sincere
Sugarcoating exists no more
Vulnerability and honesty surely steal the show
The moment I lock the door and open the bible
And we start a conversation
I know for sure that I cannot fake it
What do you expect from Someone who can see your inner being?
This time, without a doubt, I am free
To tell everything without the fear of being judged
To argue without the feeling of being condemned
To cry and accept that I am desperate and needy
No wonder I love our time, in this secret place
A time for unbelief and faith
A time for loathing and worship
A time to be Nixen
I stood facing the wind
Closing my eyes,
Picturing my worries being torn from me
In a stretch behind
Almost making a wing.
In my quest for some enlightenment
Or at least an epiphany long due,
I thought I heard some music,
A coded message from the skies
But then I realized it was my beeping machine
We have ran out of all the magic
(Or we have gotten used to it)!