It's Okay

Dreams are the matter

we are made of

when our existence

feels like an illusion. . .

Sometimes we seem

to tell ourselves;

it's all just a bad dream,

it'll all be over soon.

I wonder sometimes

if I'll ever wake up

when there's nothing to touch

to make us feel the same

as we did before we broke.

The good news is

we've never been broken for good

and if we have to be

at least we're stranded on

shattered island together. . .

Right?

Another Set of Shoes

I've been given a debatable mind,

really,

sometimes it's debatable

as to whether or not it's even a mind at all,

but it thinks,

it even speaks for itself.

Either way,

it's all about perspective,

a sense of persuasion.

Even in a messy mind like mine,

the ability to see,

yourself,

be seen,

and see through others

in a way that maybe you've never seen

may keep you from getting hung up

on that one line you couldn't stand to see,

but instead see the story for its entirety.

Let the story live and die like us

and try fighting for the other side

once in a while with the intention

of sliding inside someone else's mind.

Equally

There are certain poets

I can't help but hate,

really, self righteous

indignant losers.

Yelling as if their anger and

emotional uprising is more than

just an adult temper tantrum

and somehow means more,

or is super special in comparison

than anything you've ever been through.

Boasting about like

they're all that matters,

and only ever write about themselves,

their problems

and how they've been mistreated again.

Sure, my opinion may be unpopular,

and I'd usually stay in silence, always,

so be ready to be offended, because

sometimes it just needs to be said. . .

I get so sick of hearing

angry women complain in slam poetry

about how they're pissed off

because some loser wasn't man enough

to hold the door for them,

only to turn around in the same poem

to say they don't get treated equally.

Let me explain something darling,

if you don't want an open door,

stop expecting one,

it sounds to me as if

he's treating you exactly how you wanted.

Say it Again and Again and Again

I often wonder

if anyone worried about me,
if anyone had any words of wisdom
that I was never able to listen to
because I was too busy
trying to be those words
for myself or someone else.

How much did I miss
while I was preoccupied,
laboring with a thought
that lingered longer
than it ever should have?

I wish I could have you repeat
the words to me,
anything you ever wanted to say
but in the end, much was said
and not enough heard.

We missed our opportunity.

Who am I talking to?

Those who cared
that I tossed your feelings aside
like children do broken toys,
but you meant everything to me
and you never stopped to make me listen.

You gave up on me.

Do You Have a Death Wish?

To those who envy death,

do you count it as a wish

or a desire?

Is it that you'd like to see

the lives you've touched

or is it desperate plea

to get away?

Why do you want so bad

to see what others feel the need

to say after you've gone away?

You know,

if they don't say it

while the life runs through your blood

then they probably don't mean it

when the life runs out.

Sorry, but I Beg to Differ

Honesty in small doses

bleeds brutally in the end,

when lies in small doses don't exist
all lies are large.

When ignorance is bliss

we walk through with hope

as false as faulty doctrine;

from believing good deeds alone

will lead you into heaven up high,

to knowing good deeds alone

won't lead you there.

Our differences are something;

you can see in someone's eyes

and hear in their heart,

something from within

which is reflected

by the character our creator

has given us.

Always remember,

even in accordance with your beliefs,

everything we do to each other

is also done to him.

The Kind that Kill when the Going gets Tough.

Why do I cling
to your memory
so securely?

Just let them go;

The overly honest-
the silent ghost-
the liar that never lets up-
the quiet violent one.

They're all only traits
in myself which I saw in you.

You all left me,
on isolation island
where I was faced to question,

what kind of companions are you?

A Learning Experience

When there's something
stuck inside of you
that just keeps creeping out,

all you're able to do
is reason with yourself and say,

"We can work this out."

Let's move on;

let's live another day,
let's look forward.

Let's break free
from the ball and chain
that ties us to our twisted past
leaving us tangled
in the line of time
trying to escape.

We can cut and paste
ourselves a new perspective
on our past and call it.

A FRIEND

When you have one,

you have one for life. . .

Metaphorically-

an extra branch on the family tree.

Most importantly

one to swing on

which can also swing on you.

What if I spoke my mind all the time?

When your thoughts decide to commentate,
your mind becomes a very hard place to concentrate
especially on any single conversation.

Mine has spoken of snide comments,
I have kept all to myself.

"Some thoughts should
stay silent," I said.
I stick to that word like glue,

despite my mind
speaking so loudly sometimes.
It's hard to even comprehend
the simplest of conversations.

In so few words I'm saying:
I am not a nice person in my mind
I interrupt a lot,
I'm incredibly conceited,
I'm possibly the worst person I know.

My heart is full of good intentions,
my way to say I'm sorry for me
is to always be kind
in my words and actions
despite the trails
my thoughts may take me on.

The anxiety I feel for my mind
speaking audibly out of turn is great,
because what I think isn't always what I feel
and the guilt that comes as a result of doing so
is a weight that makes me wonder.