Compassion

At an impasse,
my anxiety
got the best of me.

You saw me vulnerable.
Understanding, with your arms
drawing near to me.
My thoughts kept us both awake.

I, so incapacitated,
all I see is your blur.
The sound of your voice, my single light,
no scorn for my state of being.
Instead you listened to my pathetic sobbing.
Used your sleeve to wipe away my saddness.

You comprehend my fears,
my desperate need to overcome
each and every one.
My need to let my fears and anxieties
eat away at me.

Until I have no choice
but to crumble and rebuild.

I consider you feelings,
question myself.

What have I done?

It's telling the type of man you are
to refuse to hold my storm against me.

To tell me to move on.

Cut the Grass

Quit living each day like it's your last.

Acting on your last impulses,
fulfilling your mundane last wishes.

Start treating others like it's theirs.

Like flowers, we whither
at our season's ending.

The single lasting sentiment-
the gift of our thought and insight.

Without a doubt we're all created equal.
Do we ever stop to think the part,
how will others treat us on our last day?

So do your part to treat
all others the same.

Uncertainty

Second guessing yourself in this world,
full of all it's turmoil.

How do you ever learn to trust yourself?
Your instinct?
Under the right ear is the whisper
of honorable intentions.
Under the left-
the whisper of intentional failure.

Calculated thinking.
Social rehearsal. 

Can create a formula to combat
all that's muddled in your mind.

Cruelty isn't Rewarded Quietly

Those who act out of spite,
in silence give in to a guilt greater.

Than our minds capacity can't see.

We're aren't divided by what's
trying to break us to pieces.
Instead we're split by our
own sense of self.

The lackluster logic
that tells us
that cruelty may be correct.

Is that ever a thought
worth entertaining?

Cruelty seems to be
a step ahead.

The sole way to overcome him
is by first overcoming ourselves.

So Get Out of the Rain of Despair

Do you ever wonder if we deserve
the second chances we're given?

I know at times in my own life
I can answer this question
with a certain no. 

But I take those chances;

Even if it feels risky-
I run with it. . .
This is mine,
this is my chance.

Sure, I could take the break to end it all.
Exit this world today, but is any fun in that?

As unfortunate as it is,
suffering is part of the beauty in life.
How do we inspire the ability
to overcome hardships without it?

I've been under this cloud of agony,
it isn't a new feeling for me.

Those new to the storm-
may live in dissidence.
With no ability to step out
from under the cloud.

Take a breath,
take your chance,
and run with it.

The storm looks  different
if you're watching from a distance.
Realize the sun will shine again.

There's Hope For You Yet

People will hate you
just for being
in the body
you were born in.

Then there are those
who try so hard
to hate you but can't.

You see,
I study people
all the time. . .

I study you,
write you down,
read you.

Then suddenly
I'm concerned about
where your heart's at.

How am I
supposed to know?

I lost myself
in that thought
for a little while,

then found myself again.

Don't allow your heart
to be broken so quickly.

Then I put the pen down. . .

I realized
that so many people
suffer a brokenness
that can not be fixed
by my words alone.

But Perhaps. . .

Who Needs Me

If compulsive thoughts could think
would they realize how hard they make my life?

Thoughts grow legs,
crawl all over me.
A nervous scratch,
the skin welts over.

If you scratch hard enough,
irritated and red,
an itch becomes a burn.
You're numb to it.

Has anxiousness ever given you anything
worth living through?

Can you amount to anything
without me
anxiety?

I'm an odd vessel you work through.

Trust me,
I don't need you,
but I'm sure it's you. . .

To Live in the Present

The choir room, Christmas,
nearing 2000.

A moment that shaped
a bit of who I am today.

Prior to Jodi wedging me deep
into the fabric of a lecture chair
I confessed to being less.

I'll keep her response in my memory;
of independence, self esteem.
All of the self assurance
I wasn't able to feel in that moment.

If I had the chance,
I'd go back and hang on every word.

Listen closer, instead of feeling like
the dust in the hidden seam of that chair.

I couldn't see the many things bigger than myself,
my weaknesses. . .

I was so small;
I couldn't get over what the student
to my left would whisper.
Before hearing the one to my right
whisper what I needed to know-
so I could never feel small again.

You have to tear your past down.

Do Something About It

You know, I haven't felt myself.
At least I'm willing to admit it.

Halfway between.

Fighting my anxieties,
and doing my best to stay sane
from one day to another. . .

In flood the thoughts of honesty,
exploding from my mouth. . .

So you hear, and agree-
but in my mind
I'm continuing to argue
with myself.

What did I expect?

At times it feels as if
I took a trip to crazy town.
So I beg to find a different perspective.
I know I'm not the only one
who sees the world a sad blue.

It isn't okay anymore.
While I live my life honestly,
and others commit crimes
in the name of protest...

Why am I the one suffering?
Compulsive thoughts.
The need to rip my hair
right out of my head.

Completely out of my control.

It's not right.
Not fair.
Life's not.

So I'm stuck feeling guilt
and sorrow for it's mistakes.

It's not right.
I have to sit on my kitchen floor.
Enthralled in tears,
unable to move.
With the fear of self infliction.

Not right.
Not when few that do deserve this
get off emotionally guilt free.

Live Your Lives

How can I say all I need to digest the past decade?
Seems as if time has suspended too long.
Everyone's got their nostalgia goggles on.

They continue ranting the same subjects
round in circles. . .

Seems they found something new to riot.

Incited by

news stands who use public tragedies
as a platform to abuse and
voice their political agendas.

We should learn to look
for warning signs . .

How to anatomize-
to be awake and aware
of what surrounds us.

Hyper-vigilance.

How to find a way to be safe.

Instead of stuck in the loop of spinal absence.

How did defending yourself become
a thing to put on the back-burner?

You have to know our importance . . .

exceeds the lack of information
any news outlet seems to push on us.

It's sad if you don't realize,
our societal issues aren't alone
in the headlines anymore.

Whoever She May Be

I haven't come across a landscape
with a beauty that took my breath away. . .

I'm too busy holding my breath
over the fur on a bee's back.

Thinking  how,
if I were
a little smaller,
or he bigger-

I might have him
in my living room
brushing pollen
from his fur.

Teaching him to talk
like a parrot,
or fetch like Fido.

Thinking if I were smaller,
how each blade of grass
would be a tree to me.
My yard a vast forest
of various leggy creatures
and crawly things.

Oh, and don't forget those wings.

But if he were bigger,
most would worry
he had a stinging intent to kill.

His majesty liquidated.
Reduced to a beast with venom,
who will do anything
to protect his queen.

Spare Yourself

If you're facing a friendship
with a user or abuser;

It's important to keep in mind
that forgiveness may be a single step away.

Forgiveness doesn't erase
the things they've done
or may do in the future.

It eases the pain and malice
in your heart toward that person
and their wrongdoings.

However, what seems to be
a harsh consequence of their actions.

Might be the end of a relationship.

Because you can forgive without
allowing the use or abuse to continue.

George in an Empty Nutshell

He sunk his claws deep within,
for a long time I could feel them
dragging, and buried in my skin.

Wherever did he go?
Nix me needing to know.
No I don't miss him so.

I'm done letting him use me as if
I'm a broken toy to pull spare parts from.

How many parts can he pull
until I become empty?

The worst part is that he filled me
with the broken parts of his own machine.

In the places I had;
happiness- he replaced with nervousness,
strength with crisis, trust with doubt,
peace with pain, love with fear and apathy. . .

And the list goes on and on.

It took a prodigy to lift those parts from me,
to apologize for the past.

Whatever it brought my way.

Even if blameless,
the prodigy choose to share
the good parts of itself with me.

We'd bare the burden of the bad with each other.

Fixing; worry with self-esteem,
disarray with deliverance, dread with faith,
trouble with security, angst and coldness with compassion.

I hope.

Maybe one day he'll find a prodigy of his own,
instead of stripping the fortune away from others.

Some Words Should Be Wasted

Enraged
he asked the world,

"Who taught you to hate yourself?"

My question is,
in what moment did we make it okay?

With enough worry focused on
our loss of free speech over
someone else's diffidence.

Who taught you it was okay
to hate yourself despite
what anyone else had to say?

What happened to designating
your own opinions?

And what happened to keeping some silent?

Anyone with an intention to be so obnoxious
with their words toward you.

Should have a sentiment
worth it's weight in your eyes.

If I Seem Withdrawn (I Am)

Independent loneliness-
the choice to be alone
and the reason is unknown.

Some prefer the silence,
 or in some circumstances,
they even prefer the noise;

the clicking that fingers
create on these keys.
The hum of thoughts in your head.
Or even shouting screams of matches
you need to make and win in your mind.

To be so close,  or so far:
from everyone.
And everything you've ever
wanted to achieve-
never forgetting to be right
beyond your fingertips.

Running, and out of breath
for the next to last opportunity
life will never allow you to take

because it will tear away
the lonely home you have.

One person,
alone, myself is enough,
and anyone else is too perplexing
to figure out.

All for a Band-Aid

If we met as children,

I'm shameless in wondering

how life would've been.

I do wish it was this way,

because mine would've been

undoubtedly kinder with you in it sooner.

You must've been incredibly encouraging.

I imagine a playground scenario-

on the pavement I've fallen,

destined to scrape my knee.

As I'm gruff to rise from my fallen state,

your hand is out in front of my face. . .

Unable to look to yours

or grab your hand in the moment

I hear your voice asking me,

"You aren't gonna cry are you?"

I glance at you, sighing a single

"No."

So you say to me,

"Good."

You, eager to ask

in so few words

if my knee is okay.

"Do you need a band-aid?"

We're so sickeningly sweet,

whether we met today

or on the teeter-totters-

nothing would stop you from

walking me to the nurse if I needed you.

What a Diagnosis

I hope you don't hold your breath
trying  to understand
the lot of lop-sided love in this life.

Driving people to their crummy jobs
looking for a lot of lop-sided affairs.

How can you want what you can't have?

So the innocent half of the affair
becomes lop-sided trying to understand.

What happened?
Toss in a
How could you?
in an instant.

Horrified, you want to make it work.
Even with a 100% failure rate.

Yea, he won't leave his wife for you,
won't tell her you exist.
No way he'll let you meet his family,
or care for one you see inside your head.

To him, you're a problem
and a tasty one at that.

Lop-sided became the sad and solitary
relationship you're too familiar with.

You're Not Guilty

Occasionally,
a wave of doubt will come over me
and leave flotsam on my minds shore.

Perhaps a bit of sea glassed depression,
but it's nothing my mind
hasn't been able to polish
into something spectacular.

It's my belief that everyone
has these waves from time to time.

Unfortunately, for some these waves
are typhoons of guilt created by others.

For them,
doubt becomes impossible to overcome.

It's not only their shore
that becomes impossible to clean
but their entire city.

How could you possibly blame them
for giving up on their faith,
when no one was there
to pick them up after it was our storms
that knocked them down?

It's my job:
to keep my flotsam off your shore and city,
to teach you how to use yours to your advantage,
to help clean the scrap from your shore,
and-undivided-restore it to a beauty unmatched.

Loneliness Never Hurt a Soul

Easily manipulated
loneliness,
one of my closest friends.

Easy to have around,
with an affection
which can't be matched.

Where would I be without you,
loneliness?

Where is the time to think;
reflect?
meditate ?
or pray without you?

Why does everyone think,
you, my friend,
loneliness is a bad thing?

I think you're highly misunderstood.

You stalk each and every one of us,
with good intention of course.

To be sure we're able to survive
in our personal solitary confinement.

So in silence,
I speak out loud to you.
You say nothing in return,
all you've ever done is listen.

Loneliness,
you and me,
we're two of the most hated beings there are.

Denial and declaration.

Marcus

Hey,
I thought of you.

I was alive,
uncomfortably laying between the arms of
a waiting room style chair;
knees up,
head tilted back.

Now, I don't remember what day or week it was
or if you were real
or if you were something my mind conjured up.

Either way,
the hard times were hitting me again
and there I found you
always trying to cheer me up
in the most inappropriate ways.

Just taking in the hospital air
my mouth sat ajar while sleeping,
and there you came.

You planted one right on my lips.

Your stubble scratched my skin,
I'll admit,
I was shocked,
a different kind of breathtaking
experience came over me.

I belted out in laughter,
then suddenly
I found myself smiling.

You made me do that a time or two.

I fear reality may have been more harsh to you
than it ever was to me
but I wish I could find you here.

I can almost remember your face,
I want to let you know
that you've passed my mind enough.

A Sleepwalker's Amnesia (A short story.)

I found myself in that old ghost town
with a familiar sound ringing in my ears.

Was it the train running down the rails?
How could that be?

Those tracks have been buried
under miles of mud and dirt for decades.

I swear I can still hear my house
rattle as the horns blare.

Paralyzed with fear,
I wake with my shadow
laying in front of me,
train stopped behind me-

horns ablaze and unaware of how I got here.

Stammering off the tracks
as my consciousness decides to find me;

an officer pulls me further,
questioning me-
too tired and disoriented to answer
I ask. . .

Where am I?
How did I get here?
What time is it?

As daylight is approaching,
the last thing I can remember
is falling asleep
at home thinking about
what to do with my future.

So I find myself in a hospital room,
but eventually walking home,
up the stairs and knocking on the door.

Yet no one is there to let me in.

A man drives up the way,
unaware you ever left
the comfort of your home.

I know this one,
and remain calm.

He opens the door,
the first thing I see is a clock
in the entry.

I look at the time and realize
I've been gone for hours,
the thought of where I could've been
all night is absolutely terrifying.

I ask him,
"Where have I been all night?"

At Least I Don't Miss the Shore

Where would my happiness be
without saying goodbye to one?

-every now and again-

I find myself saying,
"I'm glad I missed the boat on that one."

While you're still sitting at your student desk,
you open the lid only to seethe
over some he-said-she-said
from who knows how long ago?

Your looks ran out,
your substance faded,
and left all of us in my mind
to question-

What did I ever see in you?

Well. . .

I'm glad I missed the boat on that one
because not only did yours sink
and leave you

stranded-

you never saw the shore again.

Can't Avoid Him.

Death is like an uncle
who gives all his
nieces and nephews
five dollars.

You never know when
or where it's coming,
but you know it will.

Maybe in a letter,
or on a summer visit.

Could be for Christmas,
a birthday
or for no good reason at all.

The good news is,
you usually expect it.
Sometimes you need it,
but don't always want it.

One Hour

A crow shifts its way
through a small crack
in the door of a jet-way.

I see the rain and lightening
through my passenger window.
I hold the perception
that I need to stay on my feet.

Stay on my toes,
because how senseless (is it)
of me to make someone
smaller lift me onto mine?

He creeps his way inside the airport.
I'm sure he will provoke fear
and disturb the travelers on their wait.

In this moment all I see from inside
this dark cabin seems to be;
the jet-way lights,
rain cascading on my window.
This storm mirroring my upset
with several strong beams of lightening.

All I ask is for you to consider
the shape your health is in,
for the sake of those
you decide to leave behind.

(Why Can't You) See What I do?

We all breath the same air,
swim in the same body of water
on the beaches
which connect our countries,
but so often forget how close we are.

Our choices are as important
as each life we take
when we're busy at war
with one another.

One mistake
could wipe us all away
in the blink of an eye,
yet we keep playing around
as if our human lives
are some kind of sick joke.

Humanity needs to take a minute;
to breathe the same air I do,
to let the salty waters
wave it's hair as it does mine,
to see the white clouds
swim in the sky of deep blue dreams
tying us together.

See, this is only part
of what my life means to me.

I would never steal
anything away from you.

Why would you ever
want to take that away
from me, or anyone else?

Don't Deprive Yourself with Deception

We all have demons,

but how often do we take off our red mask
showing just how they get the best of us?

The mask may be imaginary,
but it's a growing problem
sitting in the pews at the church of
"Can you help me please?"

Yet most don't ever know,
or can't even admit it's needed.

It's sad how we're so quick to criticize
but can't admit our own imperfections
or even begin to decipher our daily demons
because we're too busy masquerading around in red.

While we're ignoring our harsh realities, dancing
our way through life, internally
wounded and deteriorating underneath-

what I fear most about all of this
is how many of us are unaware
we're wearing a mask at all.

Unfiltered this Morning

Food was the first thing I worshiped.

Introduced prior to god,
love, or heartbreak.

Blood is life,
water is life,
food
is
life.

Likewise,
it's the devil in you.
Making you eat it,
until you're wider
than you've been
in your entire life.

So let me explain that
all the chocolate in world
can't solve your problems.
It hits the tongue,
makes you smile,
roll your eyes and go yum.
Damn that's good!
Everything seems to be okay
for a moment.

Addiction.

How is lack of self control
considered an eating disorder?

I love it,
eat it
and I'm able
to indulge myself.

I weighed 200 pounds at 13 years old.
Struggled with obesity most of my life.

Set myself free from dietary
worry with veganism.

Highest weight 250,
at a mere 5 feet tall.
Forget being preachy,
but it bothers me,
this thing called obesity.

The leading caused of heart disease.
The unsolvable "problem"
which isn't even a problem at all.

We're fat because we choose to be.

Self control isn't the issue,
the issue is what you're eating.
This is the story for us all
vegan or bacon, it doesn't matter
what your body craves.


Most Americans stuff their faces
with steroid injected chicken.

I'm trying new things.

Figuring out what the best ratio
of water is to TVP.

America-understand,
you can be healthier if you try.
A message you'll hear,
and slap another stinky
steak on your plate.

Even if most don't,
I care for the state
of our health as a whole.
So please,
Americans,
start taking better care of yourselves.

Beauty in the Misery

It's impossible to hear a tune if you're deaf,
but the rhythm like an echo,
waves through sound.

Rattling your bones to the beat in the air.

It's motive to save moments of misery,
because I would be nowhere
without the wave pushing me along.

A blind man is eyeless, unable to see the sun.
It's scorch and burn isn't any different for him
even though he's got zero ability to see.

Set your mediocre
senses to the side
in the moment.

Ask yourself,
how does the misery
affect your ability to live in it?

The Story Can't End Yet

I claimed cancer when I was sick;

Perhaps
because in my state of mind
there was no other
explanation

(This must be what cancer feels like.)

for all the
frustration.

(Mental clutter in my mind.)

I was just a
floating blob
of contagious cancer.

Everywhere I went
I made you
sick of me too.

"Are you sick of me yet? "

My cancerous thoughts
spoke to me in a
deep and daunting whisper.

"You know?"
"You can give up at any moment."
"Are you done yet? "

Those thoughts that snake their way in
don't see the two different people
living inside of me;

an imp on one shoulder,
an angel on the other.

They only seek to kill my spirit.

"You're right-"
So I admit defeat;

"I don't have to take this anymore."

instead of giving up and giving in
to the so called inevitable-

I kept going until I was
tired, calloused and empty inside.

Of course I could have just given up,
but there's got to be
something more
at the end of this sentence.

Self Destructing Humanity (of Unsustainability)

I have this fantastic thing
called a life,

that can quickly
take a tragic nose diving
turn for the worst at any moment.

At times it's a daring thing to keep,
yet over seven billion of us do it every day,
and we're growing still.

So by seven billion,
you think
we would have learned by now
that the aggression
not taken out on ourselves is either;

taken out on our planet,
or even worse,

each other.

So pay attention,
you'll see it coming.

Summer is Over

Friends who fade away

like dead autumn leaves

scattered about the earth- 

without a trace, 

they dry up and crinkle

deserting me with a loud mess

behind them everywhere they go. 

Kindness is sort of like the wind

that blows them off my branches for me. 

He's my friend until our lives are complete, 

depending on who dies first, 

him or me, at least he returns for me,

and of course I'm that tree. 

This star that shines closest to me, 

the sun, 

is not always some heavenly abode 

hanging out up in the sky above.

Sometime's I only see it's light in the darkness- 

reflecting from the winter snow 

while my roots freeze over below.

The thought of you leaves 

tend to be the bitter coldness winter brings, 

because I know you're buried 

somewhere under the layers 

of ice, snow, slush 

and memories of who we use to be.

I live knowing I'll have lush green new leaves 

when spring arrives again someday, 

they too will wilt away in an autumn breeze.

Just like that, no goodbye-

I will never see you again.

I Promise

Even when the world

seems to be spiraling around you,

don't go up in the tornado

of misfortune going on around you.

Keep both feet planted firmly in the ground.

Keep in mind that despite your circumstance,

you've still got a grasp of your significance.

Even if those feet are planted in;

sadness,

        despair,

                loneliness,

                            guilt,

                                    shame

or any other particular ailment.

Those are things worth feeling

when the wind dies down

and you can finally see the sun again.

Scrap

If I could choose my last words-
they'd be I love you
and I'll see you later.

There's no need for goodbyes,
but let's say I wouldn't die
until my last words were said.

Well, I'd never stop speaking.

I did a lot to obtain happiness today
and the last thing I need
is to mess with someone else's.

Either way, everyone has to know
every breath we take
will become more shallow
until one day we are no more.

What do we become then?

Are we more than a dead body
in a beautiful casket
six feet blow the cold ground?

I won't bore you with my beliefs today,
but I'll let you know that the answers are
so often more than meet the eye.

Rhetoric

You can know a book
like the back of your hand
but still be unable
to let any faith rest
in what you read.

Whether you think the world is round
or flat doesn't change it's actual shape or size,
only your perception of falling off the edge.

You know, pigs can fly right?

No, they don't have wings.

But hell,
I'd fly too if you launched me
from a catapult.

Today is all I can see,
but come tomorrow,
today will become yesterday
and so the cycle continues.

Yesterday follows today,
and today crawls into tomorrow
every day until our sudden
or perhaps gradual death. . .

And then what?

Does anybody know?

It's not a question that can be answered,
despite how strong your faith may make you.

When someone else shows their doubt
don't steep in pride and arrogance
when you know deep down
you have the same question too.

The World is Thoughtless

I want to see myself 

as the world sees me.

I imagine I'm small,

insignificant, menial,

but to me, I'm all there is. 

The only important things 

are those in my life I hold 

greatly above all else;

a husband, a dog-

the family I grew with,

the family I grew into.

These things mean nothing

in the eyes of a grand scheme, 

whatever it may be. 

I hold on to trinkets 

from years passed 

and never let them go 

when they signify a moment 

I thought I may somehow 

learn from in the future.

That blue button 

I found on the sidewalk

the day you found yourself in prison. 

I mourned the loss 

of your friendship because I knew 

we would never speak again.

I put my head down in prayer for you

as useless as you thought that was-

it never hurt though, did it?

Even a button, 

no matter how trivial 

the world thinks it may be

had so much meaning

in my insignificant eyes,
but the world?

Time to Heal

Am I sorry?
Yes and no.

We can't change
what we don't already know.
I sit in frustrating pain,
hurting when I move.
I've had a charlie horse
for at least a day now, you know?

What do I do with this pain?
Work it into courage,
build back what I've
so painstakingly lost.

I don't need to be weak forever,
just long enough to get me
through this freezing cold weather.

I'm Okay with Being a Grain of Sand (Imagine a Should Shrug)

Friend,
a term that I can tell
doesn't mean much to you.

Call me one,
seems like many do,
it’s not a bad idea.

I fell right through your fingers
like a grain in a handful of sand.
A grain that fell,
then blended well
with the rest on the beach.

Bet you never thought
of me that way, did you?

Good luck finding me again.

We're not exactly friends.

Use to be,
sure, but
what exactly
do you know about me?

Forget what you use to know. . .

WHAT DO YOU KNOW NOW?

What’s that I hear?
Radio silence. . .

I'm a book open as wide as it can be,
yet how is it you know so little about me?

A relationship like dead air-
all I’m hearing is static.

Don't you understand?

I don't know you anymore,
I haven't for quite some time.

Choose Your Poison Carefully (Sometimes You Need To)

There's going to be a lot of
temptation in this life.

You can't give into all of it.

You can only take the temptation
of the opportunities
that speak out to you.

Because what doesn't benefit you,
will bring you down in the end.

Keep This in Mind

I spend so much time worried
about what the words say
that I don't even worry
about the delivery. . .

Sloppy.

You can have the worlds
most important message
and completely destroy it

with nothing but a bitter tone of voice.

Slammed My Finger in the Door

We're more than human,
we're emotion,
we're energy.

We're thoughts of guilt,
shame and animosity.

We're temples of the mind,
sometimes, 
slaves to sick bodies.

We're dangerous, murderous,
yet loving, giving.

Selfless and selfish at the same time.

We're all hypocrites
just doing our best
to practice what we preach,

and when we're the best at giving advice
we're always the worst at taking it.

I never got the chance to point it out.

Where Exactly is the Worry?

Perspective is a difficult thing to get past,
for fear of becoming like another.

Stepping into to someone's shoes
doesn't change the size of your feet,
or even the way you walk,
so never be afraid to see things
through someone else's eyes.

Becoming someone else isn't the goal,
but becoming a better version of yourself is.

Understanding another is one of the
greatest gifts a person can have,

and how can it ever hurt to earn a glimpse
of what the world looks like
through another set of eyes?

If Not Now, When?

Imagine if,
for every time you felt disdain;

you wrote it down,
boxed it up,
put it away.

How many boxes would you have?
Would you forget in time?
Throw them away when the right time came?

What if the boxes were so vast
they blocked the view of the sunlight
coming through your window panes?

What if they started to mingle
with the boxes of good memories?
Making it impossible to ever see
any situation in a positive light.

Sometimes, you've just got to sit down,
sort through the things that hinder you,
and empty out your full house.

Where Do We Begin?

A beautiful sight,

it may be,

but sleep too long and you'll see

the havoc it will play.

Toying with your mind to be,

nothing but a symphony

of fear and frustration

for not being able to move on

from this place I'm in.

It hovers over me,

above my chest,

like sirens in the night,

out to steal your soul ....

“I am your shipwreck,”

she says to me.

“forget ever trying

to see the shore again” she said

“because you are bound

to drown with me in agony.”

I'd like to be able to say,

that you don't have any

power over me Anxiety,

but she leaves me listless

crying like a baby,

"Oh how will I ever

be able to overcome this?"

But wait, I am not helpless,

I have some power over you too.

I can't stand here,

letting you drag me to drown,

while I’m so busy fighting the battles

going on in my own mind,

that I’m unable to see

a watery grave surrounding me.

There's always time to save yourself,

but sometimes the question needs to be asked.