Time is all I have to spend,
though, I'm not sure on the exchange.
I'm negotiable on how I lend,
I'm sure there's something we can arrange.

You see, Time is all I have to spend,
I can't sell it for minimum wage;
but if I really had to,
I guess I'd spend some Time in Rage.

Time is all I have to spend,
So, I put my pen to page.
Time, to me, holds Everything,
It's worth thinking how I engage.

Some days it's going to hurt
Its going to feel like my body is a stiff, unforgiving cocoon
And my vibrant colors are trapped deep inside and aching
Some days my bed feels like a cage of comfort
Self soothing but at the cost of others
I **** on a pacifier at night sometimes
Dipped in honey
So I can just barely connect with my cousins
Maybe tomorrow I'll fly with them

Sometimes I get real sad
That I don't have hard edges, and defining lines
I have dimples and ripples
Covered in marks and scars and hair
Take refuge in a branch that appreciates me
Enveloped from the sun
Barely audible whispers through growing tangling veins
Saying I'm enough
But others think I haven't hatched yet
That I have work to do
A droplet catches
I'm sensitive

Sometimes I understand it deeply
as deep as I'm inside myself
Other days I fantasize about breaking out
Vibrantly, with elegance
But at the end of the day
Beauty, and what that means
Isn't exclusively me
or you
There's no right way
Or wrong
I'm not a project
Or an unfinished song
At the end of the day
Its every single piece

And when it comes to yours, someone sees

Be patient with me
I’m still a work in progress

Somedays I seem put together
But that paint’s not dry just yet

One day I’ll get this right
I’m sorry

Who am I?

Someone you loved
Or perhaps hated

Your friend
Maybe a lover

Some stranger on the street
Someone you dreamed of

Someone with piercing eyes
Or a forgettable face

I’m not really sure right now
But I’m still writing this story of me

D: ays seem to drag on, relentlessly.
E: ventually you feel like you should give up.
P: ersistent feelings of sadness, worthlessness, useless…
R: eality seems to be slowly fading away from your grasp.
E:motions are beginning to get harder and harder to hide from those you love.
S: o, you decide to tell someone about it.
S: adly, they don’t believe that what you’re going through is worth the heartache you feel.
I: t’s okay though, because you expected this reaction to happen.
O: bviously what you’re feeling is stupid and unimportant.
N: ow what?

D: epression sinks in and begins to…
O: verwhelm every sense you have.
E: verything is dramatized and there’s nothing you can do to stop the…
S: ting of words from those around you telling you to just “feel happier, let out the sadness”

N: eeds don’t seem important anymore, you just ignore them.
O: pening yourself up to other people is no longer an option.
T: hey only make you feel worse.

D: eciding to get the help you deserve was the hardest part.
E: very day is a new day with endless possibilities.
F: ocus only on the positive things that happen to you.
I: n hindsight this will allow you to slowly be able to differentiate between the things you have control over and those you leave to God.
N: ever again will I let people dismiss my feelings.
E: ach feeling you have is part of who you are becoming and allow us to be human.

W: hy hold back anything anymore?
H: ow you feel is so important and you need everyone to understand… to become more…
O: pen-minded to the things that they couldn’t possibly comprehend.

Y: ou are worth it.
O: ur lives matter.
U: nderestimated potential shall no longer be a problem.

A: nyone can change their perspective on life, they just need the right support group.
R: ealizing you’re worth it, is the most important thing you can open your heart to.
E: veryone matters.

Ah, the Spiritus Mundi,
The culmination of what I have searched for,
Finally you unveil yourself to me,
And it is all worth it.
In my dreams,
The world has gone to waste,
Everyone has gone sane,
And I am the one again left behind:
No different from reality.
I no longer care for structure or for rhyme,
Or if my words mean anything to anyone
But me,
For I am finally free,
From what seems an eternity,
Of torment by confusion,
A sentence from a past life,
If you believe that sort of thing.
Like the modernists of the past,
Stream of consciousness,
I am disillusioned, and
Yes, my vision is assisted
By drink, and by drug,
A revelation unplanned,
But not unwelcome.
I can only hope my rhyme
Scheme and my structure
Parallels the nonsense
That I am seeing,
And that it makes sense to some kindred spirit
Somewhere,
And I love them.