musings & scribbles

whosoever knows themselves shall know they are the Lord’s. your life was saved from your own deeds but you use it as though it was not. know Him as he knows you!

i feel like i’m flying away from wherever i have been for quite some time. these past 6 months have been nothing but an epiphany as to who i am, who i am capable of being, and who i am STRIVING to be.i never saw these worlds i live in now when i was younger. they seem distanced now from where i see myself as having been then/they, following a strange vein i had never invited myself to witness, allowing me to be someone i had once shied from for fear of being too me. i struggle. that’s why i am. i wake up after a 5hr nap and see my surroundings, i see my Love, and i juggle the thoughts of getting up happy or getting up tired. the happiness wins most of the time, but the tired knows it can. i write best knowing words are after what i say. that way, you never feel tied to the next word, and focus on the following words.i long for pause and reflection, and can have such when i want.we know this yard is ours to be. she said she wants a garden. i love her and she shows me why every day. i have to go to her knowing i will always be with her. it is a comfort.

Hold yourself
in higher regard
than you can carry;
By doing this,
you allow yourself
to feel weightless
when you raise
half-way and
know you’ve
more to give.

I lower myself
to these words,
hunched and
cramped, I
give a relaxing
voyage from
thought to peck
but I never
leave them here, nah;

What’s with that
sweet-bob of
body from
the music
left sit
on air,
to be
swum in
and dived toward;

What’s the vocal/
verbal/viral
melody
swamping
my arms and
thoughts to the
sway of
the lightest dark
and
widest day?

Ah,
I love the cactus;
Who can love
that which
has too little
to survive
if not
for
it
be-
ing
who
it is/
you.

there is some bottom to these depths;
i wonder if they follow my words,
or i follow theirs?

what follows
if not following
itself;
what draws
but inks,
leaving tints
about what may,
what june;
i follow these and hope
they wallow in themselves
so i may, afraid, away,
walk in thought around
and leave no impression
of the sole,
merely follow
and forgottten.

i wind my time in wanderings of the self,
though selfish that may be, i
find myself through these times,
and hope to be in them one day,
instead of looking out;
as though a mountain in movement
of the rushing rock,
held but caught in constance.

there is a gnat,
which follows me.
he investigates
the lip of
toiletbowl
while i
release, and
he looks
inside, afraid
of stream
and floats
upward with
great haste
to avoid me;
i cannot help
but feel he
follows
in hopes
i’ll soon be
deceased,
so he may
nit-pick
at which
side to begin devouring.

but
he follows me,
this friend,
and we enjoy
the blank scenery/
the mountainesque
landscape
of an apartment dwelling,
full-bright
with white walls and
wooden desk,
with brightest screen
in warm glow/
and i feel
he enjoys
this,
though wants
to be led out.

i can never sleep when i need to,
and need to when i can never sleep.

it’s hard to sleep
when i know there’s much to do
and all’s ahead, while i’d rather not
wait, i’d rather go
and find my way in time;
it’s much less a worry
of missing, as a knowledge of
more;
i’d rather go than stay here, but
i feel i’d be better with knowing
all i’ve yet to learn.