Depression has become an insulin injection
       A necessary evil

             Only required because I have been underneath it's moon so long

       Any other tide pull would surely drown me in confusion

If you look at everything a little sideways

     You would be amazed at the intricate connections between everything in this life.

       **Everything is poetry, just as poetry is everything.

Being interrupted by far off people making exceptionally loud sounds while trying to write poetry is exactly like having a horrible toothache and trying to perform a tracheotomy on a rabid cat.

Life is a melody
      You can listen to only once.

    The first thirty seconds, you find the groove,
         it's appealing
    A harmonious rhythm hereto unwritten
                    
       This could be your favorite.


 
             It is.
       For the next three minutes, you settle in.
               The chorus comes around.

          *You'll be here again.
                  It's fresh, it's catchy
You're enraptured by these certain pitches and the words rhyme perfectly.
   One line flowing into the next, the ends justifying the means.
       Another verse, another chorus. This one feels more weathered
          Routine, maybe. You still feel that groove but your perspective of it has been altered by the change in tempo and direction during the last verse.
               

           You realize you have fifteen seconds left.
         This was your song. What did you do with it?


       *As you think back, a gentle blanket of white noise embraces everything that ever was, and your song fades

You blend with shadows*
          And the cracks in sidewalks
                Brittle grime trickling down your hand
       You catch each bit between forefinger and thumb
    And turn them all into tiny broken men
           Stench streaming in smoke like ribbons
               Your skin is icicle cold
      But the smell ignites the sensory fears of those you draw close
Shattered skull love songs emit from your bones
    Calling all sinners to you to atone

You are the blackest person I know.
Not black by skin tone,
     **BUT BLACK BY SOUL.

Who did the *****?
I'm wanting to know
             Was it Chrysta or Alex
   Or someone unknown?
            27 ***** chilled my spine to the bone
                  I've seen less ***** on ***** sites that I surf when alone

        *Evidence was prevalent at the High School and the class fool was pinned as the guy
           Peter and Sam then planned to document everything to figure out who and why

          I won't spoil specifics cause that wouldn't be slick
     I'll let you peruse through a plot so thick
       Keep your eyes open watch for clues in the mix
       And ask yourself this question:

         **Who Did The *****?

I had a dream in the middle of the day
          About a boy with springs where his legs should have been
        He jumped so high he got tangled in barbwire clouds
             And it rained blood and viscera for a month

Hello Poetry to me is just another joint family
How by a common bond, here we are strung together
Though separated by geographical boundaries
Distance has never been a hitch or a tether

Your relentless encouragement helps me aim for heights
Your heart felt blessings give me loads of happiness
Your poems open before me new avenues of thought
Your gracious company creates for me a new ambience

Before my eyes, a hundred smiling faces appear in a row
Some stand out as beacons of radiant light
With words of encouragement, you vanquish all my doubts
Revitalizing my spirit and leaving it shimmering bright

Through this forum we share our inmost thoughts
How close we feel though never been together
Many have left the scene leaving trails of footprints
And many join fresh to continue the endeavor

Irrespective of creed we are here at art’s sacred shrine
‘Poets’ we are called and we breathe the scented pride
We stand tall among many others of our species
Let us proclaim aloud our fraternity worldwide!

I have been, I am and I will be documenting the complexities that run rampant within.

It’d be easier if my mind and heart spoke
the same language. Most times they’re in conflict.

So I’ll cope in the best way I know how.
I’ll keep posting...

Because no amount of sentences...
Can succinctly form the verses that fully capture what I see and think.

No amount of metaphors...
Can successfully mask and satisfy what I truly feel.

No amount of poems...
Can accurately draft the blueprint of what and why I am.

Do forgive me for I have fallen far and deep. And for the umpteenth time, I am looking for that window or door so that I could see and taste purpose again.

So please bear with me...
There will be more to come as I indulge in my quest for equilibrium.



Yours in ink,

ryn

.

Breathe each breath as if you are inhaling the sunrise of a new day**
            Possibility filling your lungs
        Every cell in your body
Dancing to the rhythm of a fresh start.