self//destruct

here i sit
inside the darkness
apologizing to myself
for things that aren’t even wrong

and the people keep on breathing
the city keeps on roaring
the wind keeps on blowing

and the moon be still as bright.

new blog.

fresh start.
out of the ashes.

coma; earthbound

in my dream
i walked across the country
with an ax
to cut down the trees
we grew in angry places.
there were forests.
even the oceans
grew them.
i could not escape their shade.
i became fire.
i woke up.

everything was normal.
and yet,

everything was
filthy.

our days go on.

hypothetical saturation

i’m convinced
our eyes would cry
blood
if they could
but our veins
know better than to
let go
of life
over a little
sadness.

swimmer’s itch

i am far out to sea
in a rowboat made of holes
patched up with the hope
that one day
i will make it to shore
sun burned and moon landed
body bruised and empty handed
there will be a wedding
i haven’t much time
so i raise my sail
patchworked and faded
hope the stars are still honest
and head for homesick
i know not where i go
only that i will get there
so lift your voice
just below a whisper
call me home
i will come
thank you for your patience
as i navigate this
hurricane
this
tidal wave
i am bearing my cross
with rusted nails
this is the best i can do
right
now
.

sincerely, somebody

as much as i’d like to say
you couldn’t pay me to spend
40 hours every week
inside a stainless steel box
with white walls
and forced air
doing the same monotonous tasks
over and over and over
again,

you can.

you can pay me to do that.

and somebody does.

my definition of a god is
something or someone that controls what you do.
and as much as i’d like to say
money is not my god,

it is.

it is my god.

and i need 
want more of it.

and as much as i’d like to say 
i’m trying to make it better,

i’m not.

i’m not trying.

but i want to be.

please forgive me,
for letting the fire go out. 

"this is not a sad story; stay tuned."

in an attempt to participate in my existence and better understand who i am, you won’t see me around these parts very often anymore.
i’m not giving up writing; rather, i’m choosing to pursue this passion in a manner more conducive to a healthy mental condition.

here’s to progress through change.

panic, attack

when i was a little boy,
i would often get so frustrated
and angry about something
that i would sit on the couch
staring straight ahead
barely breathing
arms at my side
shaking;
i couldn’t hear my parents
trying to calm me down,
couldn’t see them
standing in front of me.

so my mother
would wrap her arms around me
and hug me tight
until i stopped
and could function again.

i barely remember that.
but my mother tells me stories.

i needed to write this down
just in case i ever forget
what love is.

full tilt

i didn’t really get my 3 hugs today
but i’m choosing to believe
today was still worth living
because
hey,

i’m a human
and we’re all humans
and everyone is different
but we’re still all humans
and that’s pretty neat
and i know this all seems
basic and maybe even
elementary
but sometimes,
i think
we forget.
we need to be reminded:

"even at your worst,
you are fucking
incredible.”

dear diary,

today was great.
remember days like this.
because sometimes
days get shitty
and times get hard
and it’s important to remember
days like this exist
and life is worth living
and people are worth loving
and even though nothing is perfect
everything is still pretty great
because i feel air
moving in and out of my lungs
and that means i’m alive.

this is a reminder to myself.