Unfinished poem….

Why is it that people say I should fall in love,
When I’ve barely learned how to stand up in trust?
I’m like the vault in the bottom floor of the biggest bank…
With a twenty four hour a day guard walking back and forth,
The gigantic, titanic lock and key..
maybe I just haven’t met the right iceberg yet,
Maybe I have and I was so afraid 
That I ran the opposite way
Or maybe I don’t want to sink, or fall,
Or whatever the hell people do when 
they lose control of their own heart…
I’ll sit there pounding on my own heart,
Turning the key, screaming “Start, start!”

But like any other rusty engine that defies it’s engineer,
It coughs up a cloud of dust 
That could make people think a bomb just appeared
In the middle of a desert,
maybe I should change my name to Sahara…
But even out there,
There should be an oasis,
But if there is, it’s not where I feel safest.
Because where there’s water,
There will be a hand to hold you under
Until you stammer and stutter,
And declare your sanity,
Even when you’ve just lost it.

Maybe I’ve caught it.
The disease, or the cure,
Because I’m never quite sure
Which one people are talking about
When they scream at their partner
Who slams the door in the face of the shout
And after 20 years they’re still strangers
In their own house.

But still, I love love.
And I will open up my heart
Even when people crawl inside and chip away 
With a hammer and blade.
And I will give love,
Not as a reward, but as gift..
Because if I wait for you to earn it,
I’ll selling the only thing I still hold dear.

Hold it together…

They say “hold it together”
But I don’t even know what I’m holding yet.
Does it really come apart?
Is it broken? Do I need to fix it?
I don’t know how to fix things..
I need an instruction manual 100 pages long before I can build anything.
Even one of those book shelves
That comes with everything in this neat little packages…
It’s still like origami to me,
Which I can never seem to get folded neatly
into small creases that form something new
And cute…

Who said I want my issues to be cute?
Who says I even have issues?
It makes me sound like a magazine.
Where you turn to page 3
And read about the latest tragedy,
Or how to avoid something that they say you don’t want to be.

I am so tired of being told what to be like.
I just want to be me,
Even if I don’t’ know what me looks like yet…
I still want the freedom to mess up until I get there.

Orange Juice

I f—- things up.
All the time,
It’s like..
someone hands me a cup full of juice.
(lets say, orange juice, cause it’s my favorite.)
But instead of drinking it,
I just pour it out.
Maybe I take a sip, maybe not.
Either way, once I pour it out, it’s gone…
I wish I could scratch at the ground 
and get my cup of juice back,
But I can’t.
The ground has it all.
All those sweet calories.
Maybe they would have been good for me,
maybe not.
I’ll never know. 
I could paint galleries, 
with pictures of oranges
and cups
But I can’t get that same cup of juice back.

Maybe that cup was poisoned,
Or perhaps it was the best cup of juice 
that was ever created.
Squeezed from oranges 
that were still covered with dew drops.
I’ll probably dream about oranges tonight,
Maybe I’ll dream that I drank that cup of juice,
But that dream won’t end with me knowing the truth.
It’ll end without me tasting anything…
It’ll end with me still questioning every line.

I f—- things up,
And you know what sucks?
Is that I don’t know that I’m doing it,
Until it’s done.
After weeks go by of me doing re-runs 
Until I’m tired of running 
And settle down, until I’m sick of settling
like dust on the ground.
And all that dust makes me thirsty,
But nothing really quenches thirst,
Like the cup I had first.

To succeed, you must first recognize your weakness, then come to the realization that your strengths are fully capable of overcoming it.

— Me

I Love You

Simply this,
My love for you knows no bounds.
Age old words spoken,
A legend from your lips,
And mine.

Like spring breezes,
Clears out my mind,
To simply this,
I love you.

At the heart of you, you are good…

I asked myself if I was afraid.
If the answer was yes, I didn’t ask myself why, what for, or even what of…
If it was fear, than the answer would be to step out, even if it’s just one foot ahead of the other.

Fear must be overcome. 
Fear of the unknown, fear of what you must do, fear of failure.

To be afraid is not the bad thing,
But to let fear control you, how is that ever a good thing?
Sometimes it’s not changing your mind,
But freeing yourself of your mind completely for a while.

I’m not saying, “Get out of your mind, and let your heart guide you.”
I’m not even saying, “Trust yourself for a little while.”
No, I’m saying, trust who you really are,
Trust that you are good, 
At the heart of you,
You are good.

Sunsets

Never quite seen this shade of sunset before.
These bruises are tinting my vision,
These scenes are painting my eyelids.

My breath was long gone when I caught it,
Words were twisted so I sat in silence,
My thoughts fought the war that I started.

I asked myself if I was afraid,
Were the answer yes, would I step away
Or head on, headlong, and headstrong?

Ashes

    Somehow I convinced myself that I wasn’t good enough for any of them. All the right in the world couldn’t undo the wrong that I had done, all the fullness of their happiness couldn’t quite fill up the emptiness of my own memories, my own hurt. I was wrapped up and blind, tied up and ashamed of the traps that enclosed me. 

    “But you are good,” they said. But they are just words after all, aren’t they? Because in my own distraction, I’d lost sight of the fact that I was good, and now was left haunted by the recollection of the purity I had once held, the innocence I had once acquired.

     I had burnt the bridges, and burnt them well. The ashes would sift through my thoughts like the buzzing sound that filled my head with all the thinking that thinking would never change anything. And I’ve grown old in my young age, puzzled and dazed, picking my own brain for excuses and ways out. But the way out is too clear for me to see, the words are too loud for me to hear. I’ve complicated my own simple knowledge, and broken the hearts of the ones I loved.

Value Life a Little More

I walk just a bit closer to the edge,
I value life a little more…
I see the rocks below me,
Scattered glass and car parts,
And I value life a little more.
My feet dangling over the edge,
I value life a little more…

My memories caress me, grip me..
My tears warm me, warn me.
But I value life a little more.
What keeps me alive, slowly kills me,
The kiss that is farther away, still farther,
And I value life a little more.
I see broken hearts, and death…
And I value life a little more.
Time is worth so much, priceless,
What a vague currency. 
Still I value life a little more. 

I see you there, waiting.
For me, always waiting.
I cry for the length of waiting,
But in it, we value life a little more.

11/3/12 These jumbled thoughts…

   Strange how silence engulfs me sometimes. Left only with the thoughts in my head, I feel overwhelmed. Are those really all my thoughts? Memories? Creations of fascination, ticking time bombs of morbid curiosity and irrelevant profoundness. 
   Goose bumps race up my arms with astonishing speeds, causing me to catch my breath, almost missing the sudden increase of heart rate, quickly calmed by the same realization I just encountered.
   I’m alone in my own world I think. But maybe I’m not alone. I don’t know. I never fully know.
   There are people, I realize this. But do these people truly care? Do they realize the essence of life the way they should? Do they value the breath taken in by each other? Or are we all alone in a sense. Left to our own vices and victories. Left to mourn by ourselves and celebrate alone.
    Feelings fascinate me, but annoy me at the same time. Why do I feel the way I do? Why do others feel the way they do? How do we interact in a way that not only comprehends the way the other feels, but also responds in an understanding way?
       
     You have a thought. I have a thought. Very rarely does the same thought occur at the same time, in two different minds. So we’re always thinking differently. Perhaps we will come up to the same conclusion, if those varying thoughts occur to each other at different times, causing us to arrive at the same destination, be it at slightly different times. 
    But if those thoughts are the opposite of each other, we will be arriving at opposing conclusions and destinations, and staring at each other across the void of misunderstanding. So how do we build a bridge of mutual respect and agreement, without compromising our individual convictions?

   Two humans must desire at least a few common things. Respect perhaps…but greater than that, they desire to no longer be alone in their world, to share it with someone else, whether or not that person shares the exact same convictions or not. So building a bridge between miscommunications is then simply finding common ground.