Meditation, meditation
Meant to be healthy vibration,
Diving deep into the now
Losing every form somehow.

Feeling guilty
I neglected
My long meditations.

Feeling overwhelmed
Many tasks
In my head.

I am now avoiding
My own self-
Confronting.

Wanting peace
Still.
To know how I feel.

I am myself but
Ugly.
And maybe that's
Why I feel sick.

Sick of playing some role
To everyone around me.

"You're so beautiful, nice."
"You're an angel", they say.

But they don't know that I
Struggle every day.

I should be so grateful
For my physical health.
So thanks.

But I am disappointed
By having panic attacks.

Breathing gets very shallow,
Sometimes I lose control,
In my mind many thoughts,
I feel lost and alone.

Hundreds pieces
Are called Me.
But who manages it all?

Sometimes I want to hide
In a warm dark safe place
Where nobody sees me
And I don't need to be
Anyone.

I don't need to play
Any role.

I can call this place
My home.

I can feel whole
On my own.

Where I hold myself
When I am worried.

And I tell myself
Different stories.

Where I truly believe
In love.

Where I feel
As though I was enough.

its so much easier to climb
into bed and pull the blanket up
past the legs that held you up all day
and over your head that's so stubborn
where all your dark shadows live

crawl back into a hole
where you can wrap yourself
in the blanket that weighs to much
to move even the slightest to get out
and walk three steps to the fridge

so the blanket gets bigger
and your body gets smaller
till there is nothing

but a blanket
              
                   for someone else

I've returned,
I've transformed,
I've found love and comfort,
I've sought out for the unknown,
only to realize that it is faster than me.
I've not yet discovered my true self,
my passions, my drive and my goals.
and yet, as I tread, growing tired,
I realize that sometimes the unknown
will remain unknown.

One of my favorite things you do
Is mumble in your sleep
A wispy whisper, secrets only we know
Underneath heavy sedation,
The comfort of avoidance
Life wanders off, forgetting us
Cotton fresh and messy hair
The sun doesn't dare bother us
Anything matters only in these short breaths, enclosed.

I used to make little whirlpools with my finger,
In the dark
When I was a bubble, you couldn't hear my pop
I landed back in the cold water
Bleach to sanitize, never enough
My eyes were bloodshot underwater
And I dove to the safest place
The bottom of the sea
The sea shells were never real
And neither was your face
The pressure in the trench would take my breath away
Float to me, I always screamed
But I was too busy chasing the light.

In times where reality
is restricted and numb,
virtual spaces become
the commonality.

If I lose my place,
  I'm sure to be triggered.
I must find a safe space,
  so I'm not reconfigured.

If someone I've met
  as I go through my day,
yells at me or my pet,
  we'll both run away.

If a person protests
  my political views,
it causes such stress,
  it gives me the blues.

I'm a sensitive guy,
  so I run from all trouble.
Just don't ask me why-
  you may burst my bubble.