You're Not Controlling Me Anymore

For a long time
I locked my ideas
away somewhere
I thought was safe,

simply stowed away
somewhere in my brain,
but only slightly jotted down
to refresh the memory
so that in no way could
you ever find the meaning
in just one line.

I'd leave you existing to search,
and let you struggle
before I ever let you invade my mind
or steal any ideas of it's creation.

No, these words are not
for the common reader,
but for the theft committed
against any common writer.

You need to know that
I'd self destruct before I ever
allowed you tear your way
into that part of my life ever again.

I'm Sorry to Say

The name is affection
and it's not entirely proud
of caring for everyone it does

but nonetheless, know
that you're in it's heart
and you'll be there always.

It's a place it'll forever
hold on to the memory
of the friendships forgotten.

Each of your faces are
so deeply engrained into
it's memory that they use to
haunt it's ghost town of a mind,

but that empty town's
been filled without you.

I'm a Could've Been.

When you say you understand,
do you?

Do you truly understand how it feels
to be completely trapped inside yourself?

Can you even begin to comprehend
how high my hopes get
about things I know
I'll never even achieve?

Then,
there I go,
once again
tripping,
I crash face first
into the hardest
concrete of my life.

I don't have much to offer,
I've got nothing to offer the real world,
whatever that is.

I know, I offered you myself
and at one time that was enough
but now I'm not so sure.

I offer the world my words,
it doesn't have to listen,
it just has to lay them out
for someone to see,
but until then. . .

You Need to do This For Yourself.

When I'm heartbroken
by the things I hear
happening around me,
I see I'm not in a good place,
but continuously tell myself,
I won't give in,

I won't give in. . .

It doesn't matter
what I've seen others do,
or how they've let
the worst conquer them,
and even when it seems nice
to slip away into that dark place
sulking with the covers over my face,

a face that I never wanted anyone to see. . .

I have to remind myself that;
yes,
I do matter,
whether or not I want to believe it,
and yes,
my life does have some sort of meaning,
and even if it isn't meaningful to myself,
it is to someone else.

It's such a lack of self-realization,
but I can't let it crowd my thoughts too long,
because I've got things to do
and people to care for.

I told myself,
No one's going to do this for me.

If You Think This was Written for You, It Probably Was

Just because you hate yourself so often,
doesn't mean you don't
have a shred of self endearment.

Too many people
hold this misconception
about mental illness,
it doesn't mean that
you don't love yourself,
it means you're
learning to live with yourself,
learning to live with your affliction.

Unfortunately many of us
will never have the opportunity
to share this bit of knowledge,
but I know that you're not only
completely capable of loving yourself,
you're also completely capable of being loved
and completely capable of loving anyone you choose.

So don't let any 'someone'
try to tell you that you can't love or be loved
until you learn to love yourself.

It's just not true.

November Never Felt so Cold to Me

The weather is changing
and I can't sleep.

Daylight savings
dream only of killing
my circadian cycle.

This is it for us,
Winter, you treat
me like a window.

Open me up
and blow cold air
all through me.

Yet you're so lovely,
at least you use to be.

What happened
to your crisp snow,
or frosted glass roses
that I remember so clearly
from my childhood?

You see right through me,
 and you left me gross
and staring at soggy black snow
on the side of the road.

Winter, you became cruel to me,
still somehow I see you the same
as you use to be back home.

We're All Awkward, so Screw the Embarrassment

When I woke up this morning,
I didn't expect anything from anyone
but what I received was far greater
than any gift I could be given.

I received life,
the drive to live and survive
knowing that my happiness
isn't all that matters
and making somebody else smile
is just as valuable
as a secret smile or a silent giggle to myself.

Life's not all about being your best
or looking your best,
sometimes it's about your weaknesses,
about letting go of the idea
that you have to fit
into some cookie cutter mold
that you make for yourself.

Sometimes,
life is about being yourself,
waking up in the morning
with your hair sticking up,
your eyes crusted shut
and loving who you are
despite what the decrepit
mirror may try to tell you.

Something which is equally
as valuable as all of these things
is the ability to love someone else
despite all of their dank defects as well.

The Humble Husband

No one thinks of me
the way that you do,
I'd be surprised if anyone
ever thought of me at all.

Except you,
you think of me
far before yourself
and when I feel like
I can count on one hand
all the people who actually
care for me. . .

Just know that you're
the first finger I raise,
that's aside from God of course

and you should know
just how important
you are to me.

Even though there's no way
I'd ever even
begin to be able to explain
all the ways
you've saved my life.

There I Go, Talking to Myself Again

I think somehow
the situation left a stain on me,

but the mark left on me
doesn't seem to matter so much
now that I can see
how everyone is stained
in some way.

The important part
is finding the best way
to stop yourself
from hiding the engaging story
which created that stain
in the first place.

That stain is part of my past.

It was planted in my history
where it took root
in creating who I am today.

If it wasn't for the stains,
mistakes, scars, and unsightly blemishes,
there wouldn't be anything interesting
about anyone to begin with.

The Only Power Fear Has, is the Kind You Supply

If you grew up hearing voices,

you'd probably not know

the difference

between a quiet mind

and a cluttered mess of a brain,

but thankfully,

now my mind lets me sleep at night . . .

Sometimes. . .

To be clear,

I didn't grow up hearing voices,

they kind of crept up on me

in the worst sort of way,

but hey,

at least I'm not in that place

where my bed smelled like gasoline

and my head would dream uncontrollably

as my heart screamed so loudly

for someone to come get me out of there.

No one gave me a list,

no one showed me the steps

to growing a clear mind.

To gain even the slightest

peace of mind,
all I ever really needed

was some acceptance,

but not from any of you.

Whoever you may be.

I needed it from myself.

and ultimately I believe

I needed to live through the clutter,

not just to get to the quiet

but also to overcome

the entirety of the fear

I felt for so long.

Going on With the Show

Even in the most miraculous
moments of our lives,
sadness seems to step
its way into our lives
in such a short time.

It steals away any sense
of self worth
we once thought
we may have obtained.

Sitting around
watching it
slowly circle the drain
does what exactly?

As much as we love swimming
in a puddle of self pity,
at some point
we've got to get our
faces out of the mud
and move on.

Cut Me Down to Size (Sinking Ship Self Esteem Mentality)

When I start to realize how much of a nothing I really am,

I find it fitting to forget anyone

who's ever made me feel that way about myself.

However daunting that may be,

 it means I must also forget myself.

It's far too easy to scorn myself,

despite how insignificant or significant

the deeds I do may be.

It's far too unfair

to be the biggest constant failure

to no one but myself.

I'm a sinking ship self esteem mentality

which is incredibly difficult to crack,

so I ask myself,

"Where has any of this ever gotten me?"

I still let these feelings walk all over me every single day,

I let my entire life sail right by me after all these years

and just lived with the frustration of never being enough.

So, how do they affect me?

In every single way.

They rob me of my voice

often leaving me quiet

in a room full of conversation.

They take over and leave me exhausted,

fighting just to feel better.

They make me shy in situations

where I really need to speak up

and cause me to close my mouth

when I have the opportunity to open up.

They make me the least important person to ever exist.

The worst part of living in my ship wrecked mind

is that I always automatically assume

that everyone feels the same way about myself as I do.

The Unfortunate Insomnia Attack

A tired mind like mine

whispers a thought of forgetfulness
into the ear of no one to hear.

It says,
"Forget this,
forget that,
go to bed,
get some rest."

So why doesn't my body just obey?

Instead, it's 3:00 AM
and I'm wide awake,
bothered by everything
I need to accomplish
in order to complete
this endless list of things to do.

"Write it down,"
they say
then you'll be able to sleep at night
and start the day with a fresh face.

Oh, but if THEY only knew
how every list is a contract
that I sign inside my mind
on some sort of imaginary deadline.

Which only ever weighs
on my tired mind even more.

So despite
the painful pressure to sleep,
I put it off until every item
on the list is checked
and my mind can finally
be freed from forgetfulness.

The Cynical Side of Myself

I'm stuck in a place where I can't find
a single positive thing about myself.

It seems as if it doesn't matter how much
I try to counteract my own misdemeanor.

I'm still the same sorry worthless someone
in my uncomfortable mind.

I don't speak up,

because it's not worth speaking
about how I need to disregard myself.

Still, I can only set aside
how I truly feel for so long
until my significance
fades away in to failure,

and at that point
my head starts to ache
from holding back every tear
that I'm capable of holding.

Faith gets harder and harder to find,
and my desire to survive
in a world like this diminishes.

I never thought I'd ever be the type
to give in to unhappiness,
but it reared it's head at me today.

It All Happens Quickly, in the Same Moment, and Then It's Over as Fast as It Began

Even after all the good days,
once in a while there are still days
when my mood matches melancholy.

Days when I desperately want to say,
"Please care"
but still don't expect you to.

Then there are also days of
exaggerated elation,
a euphoria that eventually leads
to the unpleasant anticipation

of anxiety,

and so the cycles runs around
every now and again.
The trick is coping
with the instinct
we call emotion.

Trying to Remember What I Use to Want to Forget

In a place where my bed smells like gasoline,
and my head's full of dreams,
the nurse gives me a glance
as I cry, "I want to go home."

She stands by me and says,
"I know"
as she kindly reminds me
that I'm not well enough
to be anywhere but where I am.

She offered nothing but a hug
to the pathetic patient I felt I was,
because not much makes you feel smaller
than missing your mind.

I sat on my hospital bed
with the window behind me,
I did a thing or two
I don't remember.

I begged for a bit of home
to help me sleep at night,
but anything anyone brings to me
will be lost among all the other patients.

A girl named Gloria is telling me
not to give up hope,
she convinces me that prayer
and going to groups will get me home.

She was a patient herself and offered a prayer for me,
which didn't mean much at the time,
since I didn't even understand where I was, or why I was there,
but somehow it sure means a lot to me now.

In the end, they sent me home early,
but only at the cost of more mental anguish,
and a longer stay at somewhere
that somehow seemed to fix me.

The Inevitable Thoughts of the Ego

 Here I am,

doing absolutely nothing with my life,
or so you seem to think,

so here I sit thinking about

if it's even worth my time

to try anything other

than what I was intended to do,

but it always leads to a dead end.

There's nothing better than running

into a wall full speed with no brakes,

but that's what life is like for me.

It seems so often

that I find myself going

dangerously into a direction

that leads to my destruction,

but sadly,

it's all a delusion

and I know that I'm the only one

who views myself this way.

The you I speak of is me,

I fight myself everyday

and it doesn't matter

whether I win or lose

because I always win

and I always lose.

The hardest part is remembering that

whether or not I'm like all the rest of you,

somehow,

I've still got my own job to do.

Crickets Are My Quiet Mind

I hear crickets in a quiet room

where there are none to be found

and I can't quite tell

if it's an auditory hallucination

or tinnitus ringing in my ears.

Insecurity sets in,  

and reminds me of all

the anxieties I once had.

Memories of being told

that I'm unstable

by the unprofessionals rush in,

I remember not to over think this.

Sometimes crickets are just crickets

and it's okay to accept

that no one else can hear them

chirping away in my ear.

Compassion Can Kill the Compassionate

This must be a line from my design,
the design God designated for me.

The one he wrote down
in the book of who I was
long before my body ever belonged
in this existence.

It's the line where I have compassion
despite being destroyed,
the line where I care
despite your belligerence.

See, He drew that line so thin
that you're ALMOST always able
to walk right over it.

I know that probably wasn't the way
it was intended it to be used,
but maybe it was originally
intended for fairness,
as a way to see each situation equally.

I'll always have to be careful
of who I let cross,
or you'll be walking all over me
instead of just over the line.

Something I Recall Seeing Recently.

Body image is in the eye of the beholder,

and there I saw it written in pencil,
a message on the dressing room wall
next to the tall, slim mirror.

Slightly faded, it read,

"You're beautiful, don't hate what you see."

The dressing room vandal seemed so insightful
until a few inches below I see, in dark pen,

"but they're watching you, so look your best."

Somehow it just seemed like a positive message
was taken advantage of,
flipped into a joke by a faceless fool
who thought that she was amusing.

So here's a bit of advice for you vandals,
if you've got something important to say
don't write it on a dressing room wall,

but be sure to write it bold enough
to overcome oppression.

Even After All This Time, The Mind is Still Such a Powerful Thing.

When I find myself alone

in a silent space

I often hear the sounds

of ideas and thoughts

rumbling around in an

otherwise empty head.

I dream of all the colors

that are too difficult

for the world to see,

today,

tomorrow,

or any day.

Pretending that I'm important,

when in reality,

I'm just an imp,

a little underestimated

imp.

I want people to understand

that I can only touch

the scope of the world

that I can see,

and when my mind

is worn a bit too thin,

it's often only because

I'm buried under the work

that I create for myself.

Don't Forget to Remember Good People Still Exist

It's all there,

hard to read.

Blurry. . .
Illegible. . .

I could only remember this phrase

from a dream I once had:

Remember to enter a relationship

with a picture of what could be,

instead of a token of ill will,

because when you stare at the coin,

there is no memory attached to it,

but the picture you create

in your mind will last forever.

So even if things end badly,

you'll have at least

one good memory to take with you.