Crazy how you turned my world upside down.
Crazy how I can’t think straight when you’re around.
“Interesting.”
Interesting. I want to shove the word back where it came from. Take back your words take back your hate. The things I’ve seen are not click bait.
They’re real, they’re here.
And sometimes they build into a deeper fear.
Never will I ever drown in the waves of you.
I will not let this form emotional glue.
I’ll hold myself together, I won’t stage a coo.
But sometimes I wish.
That I didn’t need to.

Why do you cry?
Because I’m so sick of not being okay.

So sick of my loss of appetite.
My constant need for pain.
Why can’t I be happy?
Wholly and unconditionally. Must there always be a load, weighing me down?
Where’s the balloon?
That I can tie to my wrist and let pull me away?
Why must life be so full of death?
So many questions.
So many answers that continue to allude me.
So I look to the sky.
To the stars.
And….
Dream.
Of a day when someone will ask me.

Why do you cry?
And I can answer,
Because I’m finally okay.

Green is my friend, she once told me a secret.
Green said, “one day I’ll hold your hand.
Green will paint the carpet of moss under our toes.
Green will hang from the branches in tendrils.
Green will starkly contest the blue sky.”

Green leaned in as she talked, our breath twirling together in clouds of white.
Green laughs gently as I blush pink from our proximity.
Green fills my vision.
Green is all I can think as she whispers my name,

“Blue.”

Green the colour of life.
Green the colour of my love.

Sharp pain is my life
It spirals and turns
Twisting into knots so complex that only the darkness can be held.
We learn and we love and we live
In a broken world where sorry doesn’t mean I care, and I love you doesn’t mean I’ll stay.
We’re sitting ducks,
Bound to fall from the sky in a shower of faith
And drop faster than air
And smaller than life.
The pain is a full throb,
An ache from a far away life
Past the barriers I’ve built around my stone raging heart.
These walls seem to live and to flow and to breathe.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.

Let your mind and soul collide in a moment of silence where only the crickets will chirp.

For why would you sing in a long broken world.
Why would you swim in a soft little desert?
Why would you fly in a cage made of concrete.

How can we soar without any wings
How can we dream without any snores

What has this world come to, to feel so alone, in a world overpacked, with rooms overfilling.
Yet each one has a heart with a cage made from steel, and the barriers too high to ever break free from.

Farewell me to a place where dreams die, and lay me down, and forever I’ll cry.

But why would you cry in a heaven made perfect?

In amongst this rubble we met.
I suffer and you suffer and yet through the harsh words we call our own, one can find the truth.
We are at school, we are at home, yet nowhere at all.
Stuck in the inbetween.
Who are we to live such lives?
Are we stars that sit and twinkle all our lives before fading away into darkness?
Or do we fly across the sky in a bright flare, burning and too bright to last.
Either way, we are space junk… burning up and destined for endless darkness.
Quick.
Choose your life.
Know who you are.  
Work hard, and then work even harder.
Who are they to give us a choice?
What difference would it make?
We are no one compared to the glory of Jesus, yet He says we are enough.
Does that make us worthy of being?
Does that give us an excuse to patch together lies and weave a net across the sea?
The fish we would catch would have brilliant blue scales and yellow fins.
They would flip around on the deck of our boat and instead of suffering they die.
Their spirit moving on to the next dimension.
How fun this next dimension must be to accommodate these funks and quirks.
Imagine.
A place where you can eat giraffe spots and deep-fried zebra stripes.
Who gave us such an imagination to be able to ponder such wild concepts?
Yet within the maze of life we tackle through the loads of homework and give excuses when overwhelmed.
The piles build up and we create little houses within the pages.
In the houses live little people with little problems and little lives.
They have little gardens and say little hellos to other little people.
Do they look at us and think we are strange?
Do their hearts rip and tear when they hear of our names and how little they mean?
Why should we give prejudice to ducklings when the world agrees that yellow *****?
Can we not have one thing that makes sense?
Can we have one thing that can be without exceptions?
That is all I ask in this crowded chaotic chapter in my life.
I look to the sky each day and revel in the endless blues that seem to go on forever, yet still encompass us tightly.
Words and words and words.