A heart divided;
Twice more than breath and dust gave life.
To breathe and love pain,
Both of one, and two minds.

A fickle ocean tide
That rises and falls upon the moon,
Leaving the waves of last thought
To stir the murky surface.
Like embers burn, beneath the ash
The calm reflection of indecision,
Caught perilously perched
Between success and disaster.

The thought thought, and un-thought
To hide the answer from the words.
Repeated and changed over drifting time,
The roving heart beneath my chest.

Will it stop?
Or better yet,
Would I let it?

Then take this from my foolish heart.
Set the path before my feet
And light the lamps along the way,
To make a stand
And keep a vow.

I wish I was made of bulletproof skin and a barbed wire mind
Heart was buried treasure impossible to find
In need of good luck if you've any to spare
Seems mine was carried away like a balloon into the air
I dream of following but I can't sprout a pair of wings
To the earth anchored by melancholy
Held by a thousand strings
Full of too much sorrow there's hardly any room to move
Grief sits on shoulders
An anchor weighing too much to remove
Mirrors at every turn mocking me with my own reflection
Tormenting reminders of each mistake and imperfection
I do not know how much longer I am able to stand on these two feet
Exhausted from daily performance mastered and am condemned to forever repeat
Don't believe my own worth though I try I can't love who I have become
Disappointment stings worse than bees so do all I can to stay numb
I'm waging war with myself and taking bets on which side will win
Back and forth tug of war constantly makes my head spin
Heaven? Hell?
Good? Evil?
Light? Dark?
I have no clue
I'm so lost in madness contained in my soul that it is tearing my heart in two

I have to conquer more fear than a mobile home in an Oklahoma trailer park
So yeah, you can say life's violently left it's mark
But here's the worst part
There's no back to the start
I can't be rebuilt after being torn apart
I'm already a patchwork monster, a piece of work but not art
And as like Dr. Frankenstein, the creator is the monster and only half as smart

©2024

To heal,
Journal they say
Like a worm in the dirt
Of my front lawn
Sliding, pushing through
Air pockets
Arduous, unending crawl
No words come
To mind
Where can I breathe

To heal,
Journal they say
Words don't come easy
They fly up like
Torn pages of a book
Riffed, stolen letters of some name
In the nameless wind
Grasping what isn't there,
A cynical continuing void

To heal,
Journal they say
My hands become deaf and blind
The pages curl and mold
Pen and paper inventing before I have begun
All I have is the deep
The deepest inside
That comes here
Traversing incredulity, while I
cry

To heal, they say