It may sound narcissistic,
Paint me as a cynic,
But I must admit,
I sometimes surprise myself,
That everyone’s lives,
Are just as complicated as mine.
Everyone thinks,
Everyone feels,
Everyone cries,
And everyone dies.
The way people act sometimes,
Makes you wonder if there’s a thought beyond their eyes,
But there is,
Just like there is behind mine.
We are all complex people,
With desires and dreams,
Goals and aspirations,
Pain and fears,
Ups and downs,
Strengths and weaknesses,
It’s enlightening.

it is said that
“when once you have tasted flight,
you will forever walk the earth with your eyes turned skyward,
for there you have been, and there you will always long to return”
& i have never felt the same way.

the sky: broad & open as it is,
her great blue beauty
will never have the same grit &
smell that dirt gifts me.

i’d rather kneel on the pavement beneath me
than suffer the misery of clipping my wings.
because i’d rather seep into the soil
than have the stratosphere melt away my freedom.
i would have the earth eat my bones
than dissolve as a fleeting cloud

if i ever die,

please turn me into a blade of grass,
amongst mud & rubble,
perhaps in a cemetery
or a meadow.
maybe i’d become a sapling
growing in a park
or a rock, unearthed.

i’d be more at home with that;
tethered to this world
rather than a fleeting moment in the sky
in the air,
in the wind.

this world is mud-luscious &
puddle-wonderful
so the sky cannot be the only
limit

If you'll take the time,
I have several lengthy thoughts,
So many I need to get out,
I'd pay you to listen to me talk.
Not therapy,
There's no doctor that could understand,
The level of this.
When the dark crawls through the corners of the night,
I find my eyes making their own light,
Because I know what I need to write.
But will it be valued,
If nobody takes the time to read it?
I doubt you'll pay attention to them,
So I'll keep my long thoughts in my head,
Because there's not enough ink to ink them all down.

Heartbreak is an ugly thing,
A ripped up feeling of pain.
In true heartbreak,
There is no beauty,
So if you find some it was but simple distaste.
Heartbreak is a burning fire,
A bullet hole in the chest of your love,
Left by your lover, with blood on their glove.

You're my fault,
The product of my imagination,
Everything in life I wanted,
Everyone I wanted to live in stagnation,
I'd rather live in my anger,
Then let it live in me,
And if the meds aren't in my head,
It's all the broken images of what I wanted life to be.

Tears are just fragile pieces
Of dreams broken and souls as well
You can pick them up and try to glue them
But will that ever be enough?

Nobody can turn back time
Chances lost, no heaven nor hell
We all look down, grasping pieces
Some get cut, my surface rough

Inside we go like there’s no tomorrow
Apart from another, locked in a shell
And so it runs, our precious time
Shortening lifespan with every cough

They emerge like we’re attached to them
But is there a chance to always tell?
There’s time for that, yet always tomorrow
It seems like nobody gets to laugh

And in the end the pieces will bring us
Back in time, for then tomorrow
We can bring them all we have, but
At night all curtains will be shut.