Sleep is for the weakThey sayIf that’s trueThen why am I still awake?I feel weakMentallyPhysicallyEmotionallyI can’t seem to hit snoozeMost nightsIt’s the same thingCraving affection and loveJust a warm touchA hugOnly for a few secondsPuts my mind at easeSo why can’t I sleep?BecauseSleep is for the weak
Down the rabbit hole I went Down, down, and down Past cards, gears, and watches Through a dark void of nothingness I landed on a cold, tile floor Black and white checkerboard Before me lay an eternal hallway Spiraling onward into darkness I wandered down the path Aimless and confused Until before me stood a door With a face for a knocker I lifted the hammer and it fell Onto the heavy oak door The thunk echoed In all directions…
Sipping whiskey on the rocks Feeling the burn as it courses down my throatListening to Franky Blue EyesSinging along to Summer WindThinking about the words and the melodyGrasping at ideas and migrant thoughtsSmiling with sadnessUnderstanding the meaningWishing I could fix the pastHoping for greener grass past this hillGoing with the ups and downs Living the best way I can every dayLoving life and the people in mine
Life is like a cold, harsh mountain. We climb it, Pausing to rest occasionally before continuing up towards the summit. And though the peak is but a legend, Something only dreamed of, We must push onward. For if we stop, If we give up, We simply freeze where we stand, Lifeless statues that serve as warnings to those who follow. Never stop climbing. Excelsior.
Why is it that I can only write when I’m in a dark place in my life? Why can I never find the words to put on the page unless I’m fucking dying inside? Why? If only there was an answer that didn’t just serve as a reminder. If only there was a way around it. But it’s an art-form. One which draws out our deepest feelings, positive and negative. An art that is both benevolent and malevolent simultaneously. Read…
Everyone was crowding her home that morning, pushing each other out of the way to gaze at the note nailed to the door. Curious, I walked up to read it, though not without provoking the sneers of the townsfolk. “Tough luck! Ye can’t catch a maimed oxen if ye wanted to!” a gruff man yelled towards me amidst laughter. I tried to ignore it, keeping my eyes focused on the note. After pushing my way through the throngs of jeering…
A cool fall evening Smoke’s already drifted away Leaving me alone In my thoughts Locked in my head Unable to escape Just break out They say Just stop They proclaim Boldly going Where they assume I have not If it was that easy I think I wouldn’t be stuck to begin with Nothing they say matters Sorry Move on Stay calm Meaningless ramble Even if I could Leave this space I wouldn’t dream it I love it too much Draining…
To quiet the mind is bliss Difficult to master But easy to embrace No lack of thought Just drifting First in Then out Breathing In Out Silent Until the next moment
Oh how serene Sweet blue and green Drifting moss Lazily growing amidst the reeds Darting fish Snatching food from hooks Baited and caught A new hole forms Through the lip Before freedom once more Fins pushing and pulling The lazy fish through the water And the moss drifts Again
A leap And a twirl A drop And a fall Neverending Into darkness Light receding Until it’s but a glimmer A lost hope Eternal flight Without control No direction No more tries No more lives Just the one Drifting Into eternity A leaf in the wind Tumbling ever downward The branch Long gone Only the black below Calm Yet turbulent Silent Yet noisy Soft Yet hard to swallow To cope