Falling

Falling

Falling-

Is

To

d

      r

I

   p

like wet

cement,

But don’t worry

You’ll dry someday

And

Trying-

Is

When anger rests

(at your very fingertips)

But no one seems to understand
why all your nails are gone.

Well we are all

Humans so wrong

Where feelings hang

From strings above

And so we watch them fall again.

So skip a rock and float instead

And live to

f

a

l

l

Before they do.

A penny found

Some sunshine lost

This

Thing called

(Hope)

Some float along.

Well hope is like a flower,

Sprouting up between cement

Coming up

just slow enough

The petals start

(To breathe the sun);

And hope is growing two trees,

With just a single seed

But don’t look down

you’ll lose the light

And miss the chance

You had to sprout.

Well

One by one

we sink our hearts

in a sea that doesn’t float,

When

One by one

we pick them up

to see we’re not alone

Scratched Porcelain

Whispers fall from the bitter
Expressionless words and eyes
Won’t say anything at all.
To live in a paper thin home
Where knock twice and
Inferno towers what was left
A place where you and your touch were once
Seeming as an angels breath
Always looking for some kind of hope
Inside a room that had none.
Now you seem someone else,
(A side that has everything crumbling)
Only to remain in the roots
Of the thousand steps others took.

Caring and curing I sat by her side
But days became months
And my medicine ran dry,
So my words became those
That were just some flames more
Tossed into the fire
So selfish and warm.
Here inside was a struggle
That grew between she
(One I could never
Burn down it seemed)
But I tried and I tried
As it was all my strength could try,
But open the door
And something kept her weak.
It’s the way her porcelain surface says little
With blank countenances
Of large truths that live deep.
Some fragile place she holds again
Some skin of bones that break again.

To Be eighteen

To be eighteen

I turned eighteen a few weeks back
June 10th to be exact
I woke up just like days before
But this one was special I guess
The cake was nice the love was more
Eighteen had finally came

Days later three birthdays arrived
Again for my ‘big day’
Grandparents, aunt and brother felt they had to celebrate
They all asked the same question, “How’s it feel to be eighteen?”
I told them what I felt and said,
“The same as seventeen.”
Perhaps the words I should have
Used, “That question bothers me.”
Perhaps the words I should have used were thoughts coming through me:

To be eighteen maybe I’ll go
Buy a pack of smokes
Kill my lungs for all they’ve done is kept my heart beating

To be eighteen the sex is ‘free’
So shed your clothes, then forget me
When love was always the one thing
I won’t give for free

To be eighteen the army’s here
Because I guess they want you now
In your right hand a gun at rest
Just as long as there’s not
A beer in your left

Why would anyone want
To be eighteen

Girl Woke Up

Girl woke up a normal day

Going through each one the same.

And everyday a puppet strung

With air of others in her lungs.

Hair, clothes, tone and thought

Died I guess to something not

And girl looked in the mirror so wore

With anger hands dropped to the floor

Then glass rained down, destroyed but pleased

The broken image, was not she.

Silence is for the Listening

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I can hear your words.

The ones your pupils swim through

When you’re too kind to say.

And your thoughts cover the holes

Of the silences too loud

For you to hold or sit beside

In times that we don’t speak.

Well maybe, you should leave.

 

Now I can hear the silence

It doesn’t bother me

It sits and stares and lets you find

The thoughts words couldn’t be.

It’s stronger than before now

Holding my breaths so in and out

I’m feeling things I thought were lost

All at once it seems.

 

But you have to meet the quiet

Before your lips can speak.

And you have to understand my silence

Before you can know me.

 

Inside Out

I’m falling further now

Not sure of why or where

My hows have gone.

Or whys have went.

It feels I’m losing

Good again.

Now I’ve disappeared inside this

Wondering things I felt some more

Of how my tears go through my heart

And why they’re falling without cure.

But they will,

And I will surely

Together swirling in a sink.

So I’ll look from a distance as

Soft feelings walk upon a string,

Just waiting to make it through

The dizzy air I seem to breath.

And then I’ll ask my worries why

Just why they had to shout so loud

Never letting me hear what I was,

But what I let myself become.

So I spun with tears until I dropped

Hard into this ground,

Then broke my worries

As they showed me

Useless, greedy-selves.

These worries never let me go.

They never let me speak.

They looked,

And it was hard to look

At things I could not see.

So I started to being then

Learn without these things

A second side

To where and why

My tears were taking me.

So maybe I can find now

Or maybe just in time now,

I’m getting up from under

The sad to find happy.

Rainy Days Come

Rainy days come

So that sunny ones may bloom

Across and growing towards

Smiles of which then go outside.

 

But today there’s only rain

To wash and clean the all alive

Every color

Every feeling

Every wrong

In flawed eyes.

 

And yet some stay the sheltered

With arms and roofs and coats near

Towering their ever

Silent sheltered lives.

And so we will ask

“Please go away”

Again we will ask

“Another day”

And yet we will know

We want no more.

But rain is rain

And down falls more

So some will stay

Inside instead.

Windows shut

Doors are locked

Seems as if

Death will knock

Look at the glass

So wearing thin

Looks as if

It’s crying again.

These people and people

Turn their heads

Just to watch

The floods begin.

 

But today there’s only rain

The one that may bring sun tomorrow

With a smile that is reserved maybe

For little shames some hide.

 

This disguise worn by whom

Twist their mouths with words soon swallowed

To fall loud upon soft ground

That may have heard too soon.

 

Because rain is just simply

Every truth to every lie

Just coming for those

To come and be outside.

The Little Things

I hate it when the bad comes near
Like the knocking while I’m sleeping
Or
The raining of good days.
A something that comes
Every here and there
Just to make sure we know
The here and there has truth.
I guess they say the little things
They do matter most
And with all good
Must come the bad
(So they may now be even and)
They say
God will give and take with hands
Perhaps not always of our wants,
But for the wants of brighter things
Perhaps a smile
(For some we lost)
Or the bringing of soft suns.
And maybe we will
For the wants or the good,
(Find a love that means the world)
So I guess it’s okay
If the bad
Does come near sometimes