Carry only a backpack into the future’s embrace,
Leave behind the luggage of yesterday’s trace.
It costs dearly to drag what’s past,
Travel light, for freedom holds fast.

~
First God
Then Everest
To the ends of elation

Her eyes in sunflare
An imprint from her light
Heavy and pulling me
The ever after of the hereafter

In that moment I was hesitant
~

People love me
I know they do
So why do I feel so alone
Why does everything feel gloomy

Why do I long a hug so bad
Even when I'm hugged
Why do I long to be loved so bad
Even when I'm loved

Why can't I feel
I swear on my life it's there
So why
Why is it like this
WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY
*ERROR

When the sky turns to water,
hard and gray,
and the wind moves slow,
as if sadness has made it heavy,
I sit in a room
where the walls sigh.
The air is thick
with things unsaid,
but I wear my pain like a coat,
and it scares me
that it fits so well.

Then the walls start to close,
shadows stretching long,
a deep blue swallowing the floor.
I hear footsteps, but no open doors,
I reach, but the walls
offer nothing back.
This is the room of depression,
where time has no use for my name—
where the lonely screams
of the blood in my veins
fade before they find me.

A door creaks open,
but no one steps through—
grief enters like a storm—
rattling the windows,
dragging the scars of every goodbye
I never got to say.
I hear the scrape of empty chairs,
the ghosts of things
that should have remained.
Here, the air is salted
with old remorse,
and nothing I touch is real.

But somewhere,
far past these sunken feelings,
past the wind’s torment,
a brightly painted door waits.
I push it open—
let the sun stretch across my skin,
let the air smell like something fresh.
And though the past still haunts me
like dust in the corners,
I step out—
a little less broken,
a little more here,
a little more now,
in a house with four rooms.

I hate needles
but I want tattoos
enough to cover my entire arm
with nothing but words
meaningful words
I want to be read like a book
The kind with a mediocre middle
rough beginning
and crisis-averted ending
The kind with characters
you can't help but fall in love with
That's the kind of book
I want tattooed onto my skin

A poem is an evening
When dark falls
The evening meal is served
Packed with emotions
Dessert is the ending
Feelings of warmth
Feelings of friendships
A poem is words
From the heart
It conveys
A beautiful start
A poem is an evening

is a black cat
with white paws
one stitched back up
from where she finally burst
at the end of her long
silky black tail
is a white tip
that I would chew on when I was young
her eyes are green
her nose pink
I've had her since I can remember
My beautiful stuffed bella

just another quick write
before I sign off for the night
today I laughed
I loved
I learned
So I feel like that made it a great day
dontcha think?