Poetry

The Tear of Loneliness

Every breath you take, could take you away

With life in a constant drip through sand. Almost like a trickle

Left in a constant drip means that all’s blood trickles

From the obelisk in the sky you may see the wide expanse of the ocean.

Left unmoored and full of despair in the wide expanse of the ocean.

A shivering lighthouse is devoured by the fog

I sometimes think that I might be devoured by the fog

So I raise my lips to my salvation. The horn.

Unease and unpleasant it may be. The horn.

I feel the checkered bite of the wind on my face.

Am I ready to accept it, see my fears head on by my face.

With every step I sicken, my mind starting to turn.

A growl and a shout around me, forcing me to turn.

Every breath you take, could take you away.

Love's Labor's Tragedy

I sit, I lay, and I wish I could cry

The ghost of a rose, never to be seen

When will they see that lovers always lie

Heated words, yet embers about to die

Two worlds apart, both hidden by a screen

I sit, I lay, and I wish I could cry

The shared spirit is lost into the sky

The back and forth straight from a movie scene

When will they see that lovers always lie

With a final claw, the beast goes goodbye

I beg like the person I once had been

I sit, I lay, and I wish I could cry

With the rise of dawn, my cheeks left bone dry

Throw away the past, ready to stay clean

When will they see that lovers always lie

I finally stand, look them in the eye

I learned through pain, made it through the dark road

I sit, I lay, and I wish I could cry

When will they see that lovers always lie

The Pinnacle of Choice

I walk on a tightrope, my arms stretched out 

in front of me, struggling to balance.

One hand reaches for the future,

A career and life in a new city.

The other hand clutches for the past,

Of comfort, friends, family.

I cannot move forward or backward

I must stay very still, wanting to

perhaps even yearning to hold on.

And if I don’t?

If I reach out in one direction, 

Grab and hold it to my heart.

Did I make the wrong choice?

Have I left something important behind?

    Does it really matter?

In my heart of hearts, I must know the answer.

But as I fall into the deep void that threatens to take me over and leave me a hollow shell

I fall away from the tightrope. A decision has been made, one that will leave me free falling.

But is it really falling? Completely out of my control?

Or is this just the first day of rebirth, with nothing holding me back? Untethered and flying free.

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Early morning evoke so many emotions and feeling

I listen to the chirp of birds as they sing

out in a harmonious song that only they understand.

The whole day is spread out with so many possibilities and nothing set In stone

Skinned knees as I try dangerous tricks, feeling no consequences.

Beat up shoes put on again as I run around the empty fields.

Steam whistle in the distance

but with no authority over my being.

Swimming in the ocean

gulps of air and then no sounds

as the waves rock me around.

The singing in the morning shows me that I am free.

I have no limits.

No chains.

No responsibilities.

At the end of the day I am rewarded

with salty, savory, and soulful curly fries.

And cool metal cups overflowing with water.

We come back to the musty yet wonderful smell of the garage.

Gasoline and dust and clutter

all signaling one thing.

That I am home.

I await the birds chirping every morning.

For without them

am I really free?

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Eyes gently flutter open

Scarcely adjusted to the darkness

Pulled out of the irresistible grip

A pung of hunger pulls me

Downstairs I hear a movie, foreign

Like the musical tilt of a language

I cannot understand

I hear the chime of the microwave

See warm chicken nuggets

Sit at my parents' feet

Eatign and marveling

At the warm taste that quenches the mad beast

The lights and sounds of the tv dull

As the warmth spreads through my entire body

I am lifted off the ground

Back In the comfort

Of my own bed, drifting off

Down the canal into the lands of my dreams

For a perfect night

Twenty Leagues Under Your Heart

I noticed the burning light of the candle, if only I weren’t thousands of feet underwater. 

With nothing around me yet that coveted warmth, I reluctantly made my way over, startled by the whisper of a name long lost. 

I heard the screech of a bird, with thousands of tons of water pressing down on me. 

Like a steaming bowl of soup left abandoned, I held the impossible light in my hands. 

It was a mad thing, comparable to a telephone pole deep in the forest, or a thunderstorm in the Sahara. 

It reminds me of a time when I felt like I was reliving the same day over and over. 

Forced to keep dying as intruders mercilessly slaughtered my friends and I. 

What does that tell you? 

To feel the chill on a hot summer day on the beach. 

Or the stabbing pain over and over while asleep. 

On a beautiful day with spring grass coasted in sweet honey, I really have no choice but to drink the warm soup, allowing it to fill my heart to the brim. 

My umbrella still lays there with the massive tear. 

Fixing it is something that my heart is unable to dare. 

They say that the memories you have with people are so fleeting and will eventually be lost. 

Regardless, nothing will let me forget the tiny flowers poking out of the freshly dug grave.

The Faintest of Memories

At night, all thoughts are put into a haze

It’s like I can scarcely put ideas in place

When my eyes close, I float in endless space

Trying to find my way out of the maze

They say wanting this time is a phase

For me it’s a much needed change of pace

It’s the beginnings of an insane race

In which I push myself into a craze

It’s good, however, as I can be free

I need not worry, and just rest and dream

Some days, I like to watch the wisp of dawn

Tell myself I am where I want to be

So I lie down and fall into the stream

An adventure beginning with a yawn