i take a minute to think
about my future, and who i’ll be.
only takes a second, and i’m writing you
to tell you where i am right now
as opposed to who i’ll be.
musings & scribbles
waiting for you,
i built a
lot of
bad habits, but
now you’re here and
i can’t think about
all of that;
no, i’ve got you
and all you do
is condition me
to be better than
i am;
a slight crystal
fills a void in
your tulip jewel;
i bought you
the brightest band
i could find, so
you need not worry
about falsities,
just the clarity of
your tulip jewel.
just because i sit here,
wandering my mind when i talk to you,
holding on to everything i can’t fit my arms around,
shuffling back and forth in this
old man sweater you hate but love
because you know now that’s who i am,
who i’ve been since i was 10 and you
hadn’t met me yet to change my mind
just that little bit into the better
man i am now that i have you to tell me
what i can’t see, but know enough to listen.
i followed my heart when my hands tried to tell me
the only position through is huddled by
a screen, lit with others lost in translating;
but, i followed my heart when you came calling
and acted out all the ways i never knew but
always saw how i should be when you’re standing
in front and i’m beside: a shift, a question,
a kiss, and we were on our way to being who
time’s told us we were always s’posed to be.
Seeing work not finished, just collected
And my motor skills reluctantly continue
Scrolling through words as memories,
Parking and driving and sitting and laying
And talking and working and being a being.
And memories, they keep coming when that’s all you have
Or all you care about– so easily picked, harder to remember what led to them being your
Memories.
I can move mountains with my mind, but my eyes will only watch and my hands only dig; my lips will only move, my mouth will only dry. A peculiar situation when reality puts you in a place you’d been before but hoped was only a dream best kept sleeping.
I laugh out loud when I think of days, but blank my stare when hanging on to thoughts of nights and all their ramblings.
Just poked fun at myself
Tried to land a soft punch
But didn’t pull back at all
Meant to hold a thought
Forgot to let it go to begin with
And that’s where this story ends.
I can see in the dark. Not by locking my eyes on an object and hoping the exposure to darkness eventually hones a new skill. No, not that ludicrous way. I can see in the dark by focusing on everything at once and acknowledging that there are subtle shades to the darkness and, therefore, bits of light from which to make objects appear against a backdrop, or shadowed on a foredrop.
Perhaps life is that same way a bit misleading. We’re told to look directly at our goals to accomplish them. Stare at until you break out. Not that I don’t believe such a scheme isn’t entirely possible, I just have lived to find my own goals a bit shadowed before they’re clear. In fact, I set such general goals that my accomplishments feel hollow until I recall where I was before. Maybe that’s my clouded mind, or a lovely way to float through life.
I derive pleasure from sounds. Those sounds that string together to create a noise track to life are so exquisitely placed– to not appreciate their beauty and synchronicity is paramount to falling without holding out your hands. The sounds are there to reel you into reality as life walks on without you, waiting for ears to open your mind back up to its surroundings.
To have pets is to have companions and, subsequently, a reason to not become insane. Paths that stay in constant symmetry of days are often given synthetic or augmented experiences to replace those feelings gained by being interrupted by other paths. Pets = paths, just as we do to them.
When I can’t see myself writing, I just write. Only fools and cowards believe in writers’ block. Real writers know you can never stop divulging your life– not for anyone. We’re the opposite of voyeurs, but the stalkers of our own lives.
Stay foolish and imitation will always ruin your gift. Be unrelenting in your approach and you will eventually build your own bypasses around/through/over others.
and, adrift in climb of silence’s stairs,
we hold our eyes along route of that fleeting glimpse of God’s first gift, light in darkest days.
You should always say what is worth saying before committing it to memory. The phrase, “committing it to memory,” can imply memory is an institution. I agree with this. My mind often knows less about relevant responses, and more about fight-or-flight.
Don’t put it back the same way
you found it. That only means
you never existed.
A good king reveals problems,
but still despises the very notion.
Patios are for guests and bird watchers. Star gazers need a hill. Don’t ask me why, but I think it’s just social assumption; that oldest trait we still attribute genetics to.
I always find speed to be less a knowledgeable outcome, more a byproduct of being wreckless in earnest.
Preparedness should never be defined by the variables.
finding out you’re inadequate sure hurts, but so does finding out you’re just adequate. all told, you have to look at everything the world has to offer before you subscribe to the notion that, “one wrong is everywhere.” just like a hitter may need a different rotation, a quarterback a different receiving corps, a coach a different team– just like each of those, you cannot feel as though you are not good enough for all. you’re great for someone, for some team. you just have to find that team, show them you’re worth their time, and grow.
That’s what many fail to realize, really. Growth is not possible in a static/stagnant place. You either cannot expand, or you’re just spreading filth.
define:me
so,
i don’t think
you can.
i think you
see what
you want:
a spot of text.
‘ but not
‘ who i
‘ am.
‘ (a
‘ man walks through
‘ an open door,
‘ he doesn’t look around
‘ or
‘ stop to turn the handle,
‘ he just
‘ walks through and
‘ you take that to mean
‘ he knows it’s open,
‘ but what if
‘ he’s just walking
‘ and doesn’t
‘ know it’s a door?)
yo, i
haven’t lost a good friend in a long while
to violence or anything that would be permanent,
but, damn, i feel like i’ve outgrown a few
of my good friends from when we would play war
like death was a distant concern– man, how fast
we grow up when put into a social situation
perpetuated by others and not ourselves, or
maybe i did it myself by not being a bit more
transparent.