June 29th, 2017
It’s been 1 year, 4 months and 19 days.
For 1 year, 4 months and 19 days.
Count the acidic tree rings
Nearly 504;
Bright
A.m. eyes
On East Ferry,
in contrast of noir
I say, man;
June 29th, 2017.

It’s time to get a new calendar,
Cause I count 5,000 dollars later
and not a sense of a cent
was fined for my remorse.

I’ve been fine and fined.
Holes in my pockets
dropping seeds of change
planting fines

Into puddles
and potholes
showing deep interest
into the alignment of my car
stalling my engine with debts.

19,000 dollars and growing later;
I learned what trigger warnings cost
and ironically
I wrote a paper on it.

Don’t get me, wrong I am grateful
But, I had to rip holes
into all my jean pockets.
I mean, **** it,
I never had much going in
And I should quit smoking
My lighter is dead
Only blue and red
Sparks lived well in my mirrors
On, June 29th, 2017.


From the wall I was chained to,
I enrolled into college
My mom drove me home from my first class.
My lawyer wasn’t much of a lecturer,
He spoke math for 1,400 dollars

250 and 9 weeks.
106 a month for 52.

That’s enough math for this semester.

I drank with my night instructor on Mondays after 9,
He wanted to hear my music
We drank whiskey salted potholes on Allen
I counted his tree rings to 4/4 measure in regret;
20 years steady.

I graduated on a Tuesday morning,
I didn’t call him back to thank him for the irony.

I acknowledged our acidic rings
With glass cheered laughter
Swallowing thanks for each other’s company.
9 weeks and I don’t recall ever leaving the room.
43 went after,

And today life is that,
Paid for in lessons,
No need for pockets

I am those potholes
bumping coffee all over me
20 mins late to my first class.
I can repave them
but they won’t stay filled
It’s OK to want smoother roads to school.
I’m late but I’m here

I’m a mess.
******* would see art.
People have his eyes on me.
I want to be framed and splattered
on the walls of your home
A household mess .
It’s OK to have a passion.

Look into my tree rings
How old am I?
Its restorative to count
27 rings of rebirth
Look at me still growing
I believe I can grow in Paradise-lost fire
Or in Buffalo salt

I am my flaws
I counted them

My alcohol abuse,
One beat of 2,653 in 2017
I don’t know how to put an apology
On a music sheet.


The Jazz fills my potholes in the morning
before these hallways

My grey area is stained glass in Villas library,
Each step is eclectic
From shoe up and over is stand still art

Lighters flash cigarettes burning
But prints pictures of thankful new memories

With all of you in it.
Thank you for helping me with today’s date.

What happens when I get the bottle open?
When I'm strong enough to let it go?

all the hopes and dreams I once had
escape
and I gain the knowledge to be free

What happens when I get the bottle open?

I stab the villain and not the innocent
finally slaying my demons
it's liberating
can't you see?

What happens when I get the bottle open?

I'll finally see the truth
maybe you will too
be happy for me
this is no set back

What happens when the bottle finally opens?

and all my dreams come true
I'm laying on the beach
listening
as the crashing waves
consume me
so nicely

What happens when the bottle's open?

and there's no going back
like Pandora's box of bottles
and all that's left is to
sink

What happens if the bottle's already open?

and I can't hide it anymore

I'm sorry
for wasting

Everything

but the bottle's been opened
and I can't waste this

not now

there is no strength to close it.

I am today
A grain of sand
An insignificant moment
Yet it is a grain of sand
In the desert of time
Where my the wind is life
Mountains of hopes and dreams
Pits full of anger and fear
There is no forecast in this desert
No such thing as expected change
Today are mountains
Tomorrow is caves

Wherever the wind blows
Whichever way time goes
No matter how tall the mountain has become
Or where these pits come from

Walk through your desert
Moments here will never come twice
Joyful moments can only come by if you climb
If you walk through your desert

The desert of time


©SEHO | http://www.seho.site

I watched as my depression took control of my body
It made me push away everybody
Until I was left with nobody
But me.
I thought to myself “how could this be?”
This wasn’t me.
I was never one to be unhappy.

I gave up
I let myself be
I fell back from the crowd until I was the only thing I could see.
I faked my bright charisma so that no one would see that depression found me.

The highs and lows, the valley views,
The good and bad, you win and lose,
You’re up and down, mountain to valley,
Praising then tearful, sad to happy.

But what happens when you get stuck?
You climb and climb but can’t get up.
In the valley you settle, in the valley you stay,
Less sun, less warmth, more shadow days.

But is there ever a valley without a mountain?
Is there ever an exit without a way back in?
Nothing’s forever - the good or the bad
If you can’t find your way, find another path.