Possibility might just be another word for right now.
And I feel like it might bring me regrets somehow.
How do I know this moment won’t pass me by?
How do I know I won’t fail when I try?
Does every challenge have a prize, does every effort count?
Does it mean something when I try, or will it linger and haunt?
We tell ourselves there’s something in every little bit of nothing.
And yet we hope there’s nothing to every daunting something.
Don’t teach me how to play, I’ll kick around and figure it out.
Don’t show me where to stay, I’ll exceed boundaries without doubt.
Don’t tell me what to say, the more I mean it the less I’ll shout.
Don’t think that it’s all gray, I know there’s black and white about.
-April 13, 2013
If sparkles were pieces of stars,
then the brightest ones would be ours.
The little bits of stardust we call
our own material of it all.
And you have the star’s shine in your eyes,
as beauty is underscored by your style.
I can’t help but think of you as mine,
and smile whenever my star shines.
-April 27th, 2014
For the fourth time in a row, it feels like I just need to let this go,
but it keeps growing and it just goes to show,
there’s so little time to heal these woes.
The late nights grow shorter and the days seem to drag.
I wish I were stronger, but I guess we all wish that.
Help me to see that I’m not what I think I am.
Help me to be anything other than who I am.
Help me to be, help me to see, just help me.
Just help me, please.
I’m on my knees.
This feels like defeat.
Set on repeat.
It keeps crawling up my throat.
Like all the same words I wrote.
Like everything is a cycle that comes back to this.
I know I got a few hits, but I mostly just miss.
I mostly just miss, miss, miss you so,
Read this and let it tell you oh,
That I’m never going to stop writing these lines,
Just like life will never be fine,
This can be a never ending verse,
Kind of like my reoccurring curse.
I could go on and on and on,
But I need to break down now.
-March 20th, 2013
Is genius just a fluke; does it always show?
Where do higher thoughts go?
Is intelligence a product of neural connection?
The more you connect, the less your attention.
You pay less, get more, and chance association wins.
You make little patterns and understand the subtle things.
Is genius just a fluke; does it ever show?
If living is experience, then let me know.
-March 1st, 2014- March 3rd, 2014
The bitter scent of coffee on my breath,
My tongue rolls around the words you left.
The running water dripping down the air.
It doesn’t mean a thing unless you care.
The bitter scent of lies on your breath,
My tongue rolls around the words you felt.
The running water dripping down like ink.
It doesn’t mean a thing ‘til it hits the sink.
Because we are falling, and the moment is transition.
I’m trying to prevent this, but you won’t listen.
Because we are dying, but the moment is life.
I’m trying to explain this, but I’m out of time.
So don’t let us drown when you know we can swim.
Don’t make us lose when we have it in us to win.
Don’t let me catch you running away from time.
Because we will catch up, and leave you behind.
-March 2nd, 2013
Chasing familiarity, familiarity in pain,
Because without this sensation, it would all be the same.
Chasing the days when it wasn’t all okay,
It covers me like a blanket in a way.
Chasing injury, the support needed in pain,
At least this way I can give my problems a name.
There is something about how it feels so bad,
That makes a person drive their self mad.
In hope there’s pain, the absence of truth.
In mourning there’s relief, with some tears unused.
That if today is running, then I’m running too.
Besides moving away, what to do?
In pain there’s hope, the embrace of truth.
That we may be stronger, and failure will lose.
That if tomorrow is coming, then I’m coming too.
Besides moving forward, what to do?
-March 24th, 2012
Like sunlight, like glass, like the young past.
We were so we aren’t, I knew it wouldn’t last.
There was always a golden quality to our days.
We were happy, and happiness just can’t stay.
Because gold is envied by the clouds of yesterday.
The storm has to come back, it has to reoccur.
Because our hearts need suffer, need pressure.
It is this that kills us and we were made to die.
We were made to fight the forces that will override.
The illusion of life, the great façade.
We won’t make it out alive, but we act as if we will.
We won’t win against the world, but we won’t stay still.
So every moment I was happy, and every moment I will be,
That is what I live for, the illusion of being free.
This world is an enigma, a mirror of the past.
Like sunlight, like glass, it just won’t last.
December 10th, 2012