i understand the sentiment, you’re unsure of my ability
my reliability
my drive

It could’ve been something that I said, my phrasing is always self-deprecating I know
Ive needed the adjustment, I don’t do well I know

What bothers me is the piling.
Everything always increases
It never gets easier

Not that I don’t think that I can
But haven’t been able to
I have never shown myself that Im capable

I tell myself differently
Like yelling at a brick wall
I stand unmovable at my own motivation
Wouldn’t my words mean more?

No matter what
I can
I will
I have before
I will continue

Ill never stop, but my heart wants the feeling to stop
Ill never let it
She can take it

Im also so sick of this depressing hopeful tone that I take. That I don’t think I can but will do it type speaking
I don’t know why I do it, because I’ve always been a self fulfilling prophecy, those feelings always end up being true.

light blues and tea
tea and camping chairs
chairs and the breeze
and a fire
fire?

you know, there’s no place i’ve ever wanted to be more.
remember that song? the place that makes me happy?
it’s never been anywhere else. us. you and me. and our light blues.

I wanted to ask for a minute now if you’re doing alright, not because it’s extremely noticeable  but you’re quieter and less interested in things. It’s not something that you can put into words either, but it’s a look in your eyes like you need more, like you don’t see the light like you used to. We don’t talk like we used to, and when we do I just take up all the silence with my thoughts. I don’t know if I’m giving you enough space to share or if I’m making it all about me. I don’t have a need to know what it is, but it’s digging at me to make sure that you can handle whatever it is. And if it’s important to you then it’s important to me, because you matter to me and I notice. I miss the old look you had, and I miss hearing what’s happening in your head.
I miss you.
Do you remember when I used to bring cigarettes and you’d make tea, and we’d sit outside for hours discussing anything and everything. It was all out in the open and it was all easier to keep track of when you were listening. I learned so much about you and everything you thought about was in my head, we would sit and offer advice and grow the conversation past menial problems to grand concepts that made everything else bearable.
That was my favorite part of every day.
The end of some eras make everything else bitter. Remembering what used to bring me so much joy. And now I don’t know what does, and I’m not sure if you know this or if you feel it too, but I’m positive it’ll come back. Whatever makes sense to us at any given time will make its way back. And we’ll survive it.

I think the people made me feel safer
The city didn’t sleep
Even if there were creeps there were friends
Here there’s no one
No one to help if I needed it
More judgmental faces instead of

Anyways I was supposed to be talking about the trees
They’re sturdy and I need that
I wish I was one more times than not
Their arms are still and reliable
They change their hair on a cycle and it’s never not gorgeous
It’s like shelter
Safety in storms, they fall but only when it’s time
And they don’t have to get back up, because that’s where they belong after

I wish I had an inherent duty like that
To protect and then fall
Nothing else just to be strong

It might be all it is, strength
It’s complicated though
There’s so much to think about

I won’t end this like usual
I can be strong and I will, I don’t really have a choice
I’ve gotta buy new shoes soon anyways
And they’ll see it eventually, I don’t have to tell them
And then I’ll be a tree

Smother ground
Soar in breeze
Breathe them in
Release yourself
you have to change with them
natures known what’s best for awhile now
the cycle keeps you alive
turn orange then yellow
make your descent to the floor
Make room for fresh motion

I am but a fragment of everything
But apart of it
Iridescent and shifting
but I am here

I’m out of practice but I have words
I am tired but I am in the midst
The moon keeps me up at night and I can’t seem to make the morning

I am scared and bored and happy and so very lost

I make no sense in my head hopefully it doesn’t pull together here

I hope someone sees it

I hope to feel again
Those hills and valleys are terrain on an otherwise deserted landmark
The most interesting thing about me are my words
Without I am blank

What comes and goes is the heart of it all
Sometimes living to write it down later is the key
Sit like you’re being observed by an artist
And speak like all your words mean more
Like you’re being heard, loved, cherished


I wonder how to get back
When I stray from what makes me
Learning how to write
To read
To listen
How to act like art again
To see the beauty and to follow it
To the ends of everything I thought was important
To take the people with me that deserve it
And the ones that don’t
To not forget, but to release

And this is all very abstract
But I would rather describe a far away feeling than to have never felt it

Tomorrow will be different
I’ll put pen to paper
And I’ll feel the sun on my face
And I’ll call someone
Write about someone else

What would it take to write about something other than myself
All these feelings that come from nothing
An experience is nothing like they said
They said when you go, use it
But I would rather sit and wait