Misery

At the end of the day it’s another day over.

And isn’t it sad to be counting down days?

Waiting for time to pass, letting it be taken by exposure

And once our day comes, our souls shall be ablaze.

But that is opposite of the precedent we set

Never picking a day to seize.

We allow it to come to us as we fret,

And never move forward, as with the breeze.

But how will we know when our day comes if no other day has been ours?

If we let all others pass with indifference?

Is it right to sit and wait for the hours

That pass but are not made ours due to diffidence.

So rather than let everyday be wasted as it is passed

Shouldn’t each one be treated as if it’s the last?

Misery

Rainy Day

Kicked off my shoes and went walking in the rain,

Hoping the drops can distract me from the pain.

Try and outrun my demons before I ever learn their name,

But in hindsight they blur and look all the same.

And I’ve seen this happen I’ve felt it happen I fear it always

Turn and see a mirror down these empty hallways,

And I’d rather keep running then make the confrontation,

But when I’m alone I hear the mirror’s presentation.

The image of fear faces me through my own eyes,

And forces me into what I know but won’t realize.

And i question what I do for self defense,

Because whether or not I face my problems I want to face myself less.

And my hearts hidden or on my sleeves,

I’m not sure where it goes cause I’m not sure what it needs.

Fight for anything that’ll grant me some relief,

If only to briefly cover up what I don’t want to see.

And I’ve seen this happen I’ve felt it happen I fear it always,

Turn and see a mirror down the empty hallways.

I examine myself, try and learn what plagues me,

When the mirror says aloud “Why do you hate me?”

I jump back but try and answer the question,

But the words won’t come together i don’t know what to mention.

I don’t know where to begin or how this began,

This the hardest of the trials of a man.

To face oneself and not have to turn away,

To look at your path and know whether or not you’ve gone astray,

To go about your game and not wish you didn’t have to play,

To think about yourself without feeling like a rainy day.

And I’ve seen this happen I’ve felt it happen I fear it always,

Turn and see a mirror at the end of empty hallways.

Try to run faster feel I have to escape,

The one decision I can always trust myself to make,

To turn and hide rather than once face myself.

And honestly I can’t picture a worse type of hell,

Because when I try and ask the mirror for answers,

The reflection warps distorts and sure,

Enough I’m staring at what can’t be me.

Face to face with something from out of my worst dreams,

But when I keep looking I realize it didn’t change,

But I begin to see what I think when I say my own name.

And no matter how hard I try I can’t change it,

Can’t see myself without feeling estranged and,

Enraged like I’m deranged,

Thinking the type of thoughts that drive me insane.

And I turn to the mirror and I scream for it to go away,

Look inside myself from outside and cry fuck a rainy day

Rainy Day

Puzzle Pieces and Pendulums

Puzzle pieces and pendulums.

Where do I go?

Where do I fall?

Kaleidoscope eyes set motion to my pendulum mind,

At each crest I’d look ’round for the part that could fill the space in my puzzle piece heart.

Finding naught I would trough, my swing slowly ceasing

And my head was hung low, feeling unwhole completely.

There I would stay until my mind began to sway,

It would feel like it changed but my path stays the same

With the highs and the lows both taking place.

Yet even the best moments somehow took a part

Out of my fractured puzzle piece heart.

Maybe there’s a piece to complete me,

Or maybe I’m secretly whole.

But until an answer is reached my thoughts will stay stagnant and I’ll tear myself apart,

Such is the life of one with a pendulum mind and puzzle piece heart.

Puzzle Pieces and Pendulums

Seasons

He was born again under the moon of a warm Summer evening.

He’d spend his days basking in the sun and watching as twilight replaced it with the moon and stars in a brilliant display of yellow and blue and orange and white and black.

He often slept outside to fill his eyes with as much of the world coated in the dreamy light of the night sky as he  could before sleep would overtake him.

He dreamed of an eternity of a warm Summer night, one with no clouds present to obstruct his view of the moon and the stars as they often and rudely do.

In the Summer his passions burned like the sun, and day and night and day and night would pass and pass.

Then the air chilled as the Summer grew weary and had melancholy Autumn take it’s place on the earth while it rested.

He noticed how much faster the cool days bled into the even cooler nights.

He mused it must be a trick of Autumn to cast the subtle shadows of a night sky over the earth as the vibrant colors of life that were present in Summer faded into brown and red.

His days were spent crunching over the leaves, with his head cast to the dirt that was mainly obstructed by the parts of the trees too weak to survive Autumn’s bittersweet kiss that led the trees into their Winter cradles.

He almost felt his own decent as the dried shells of leaves once soft and breathing cascaded down from even the highest branches.

Twilight reminded him of the hopelessness of things radiant and beautiful lasting as it wrenched the  sun from the sky and dropped the moon and stars in its stead.

He sat shivering looking up.

The moon that usually filled him with wonder stared back, yet all he thought of now was the cold.

The Autumn that seemed eternal over worked itself before it was it’s time to rest, refrigerating the earth to prepare it for Winter’s reign.

At first the days were gray as heavy clouds covered the sky, burying the carnage of Autumn’s assault on the earth under purifying white snow.

Then the days and nights were cold and bright as the snow reflected light from dawn or dusk or anywhen in between.

During the days he’d pause to admire the feeling of the crisp frozen air as it passed in and out of his lungs.

At night the moon light shimmered in a way that he understood as if it were words,  telling all that it could see.

They spoke of the children engaged in warfare involving snow balls and forts and laughter almost in excess.

They spoke of the fish that lay dormant deep under water.

They spoke of lovers sharing body heat and warm words to stave off the frost.

The days grew warmer and longer as Winter faded and Spring began pumping life into the world.

He saw the whites and browns left behind from Winter overthrown by the greens and yellows of new life.

The water that fell from the sky was of the life giving kind, not the cold crystals tasked with forcing the earth to rest.

After twilight had done it’s work and the moon sat upon it’s throne in the sky, he would only cast it the occasional glance as he looked around, filled with inspiration and inexplicable joy from simply the  existence of the new life around him.

His eyes and mind were full of clouds and sun beams and stars and grass and trees and the moon.

Day in and day out he would fill his eyes and heart until all that was in him was ignited by the Summer sun, and he would burn until he was born again under the moon of a warm Summer evening.

Seasons

The Same Space

I see us in the sky.
I see the moon in your face and the stars in your eyes.
I feel the sun with your touch.
My blood runs hot in my veins and my face starts to flush.
But we are as two stars from the ground.
We may seem so close but you are nowhere around.
Like the moon and the sun.
We share the same sky but our true contact is none.
We reflect each other's light, yes.
But without me you shine yet alone I am sightless.
I see us in the sky.
But I watch from the ground as the hours tick by.
We dance in the stars.
The brightest in the night as if the sky was ours.
But we're like heaven and earth.
You live in the sky while I'm stuck in the dirt.
Heaven and earth.
You're the paradise after the life that came first.
But you stay in the air.
I watch you soar along as if you don't have a care.
But whether my eyes are full of rain or dry,
I see us in the sky.
The Same Space

Letters

A lonely cigarette walk at night.

The air is crisp and cold. The ground shimmers with frost. I’m pacing around on a frozen sidewalk. My left hand holds the burning filter of a Parliament. My right hand rests on my phone in my jacket pocket. I walk back and forth. My left hand swings with my step. My right hand drums restlessly on my phone, as if it feels there is some task it must accomplish. Do I pull out my phone? A constant outlet for pent up emotions I’m never sure how to properly convey to the correct source. I pat my phone once reassuringly and leave it alone, taking my hand out of my pocket. I throw the cigarette butt into the slush and turn towards the door. I’m at the far end of the walkway from my destination. I rub my hands together partially for warmth and partially to busy my hand and prevent it from wandering back to my phone. I walk back home with a mind full of messages never sent.

Letters

The Songbird

I was once in the sky,
Soaring just below the clouds
The wind would whip at my face and the Sun was alive in my Eyes.

I once flew,
Proving my strength against the Earth’s
My willpower enough to defy what makes life possible.
For a while I could ignore Gravity.

I once landed,
For one can only fight off the Earth for so long
I fell to rest my weary Wings. I haven’t flapped them since.

I now walk,
My dulled Eyes cast lustfully towards the clouds
Flying through golden memories before my dreams crash into the
Ground, as I did.

I hear a Songbird,
Although gentle, it harmonizes perfectly with the Earth
I turn to see the source of the sound and was blinded by a flash of the Sun.

I now run,
For the Songbird is moving around and around the Earth
I can never quite see it for it always moves higher and higher
towards the Sun.

I now rise,
The Song filling me with strength to rise towards the Clouds
I still couldn’t see the Songbird but as I follow it,
My Eyes are alive in the Sun.

The Songbird