fire

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I feel myself unmoved.
I see the stagnation in my truth.
It
Burns inside me like the glowing embers
Of a flame
That refuses to die
And rises
Again and again.
Can it be
That I have reached the end of my being?
That there is nothing left to do
But to live and to breathe?
That
All I will do is pass time and wait
For the cold blanket of death to settle
Over me?
I
Feel myself saturated
By my own personality
Like
No matter what befalls me
It all falls into the same category
There’s not a damn thing
That comes across as new to me.
These days, I find
I am
Uninspired.
There’s no motivation in me
To change my Life.
I
Lack ambition.
I have no cause to be driven.
I exist on autopilot.
I sit still and there’s nothing for it –
I’m unmoved.
It all dawns the same
Each day anew.
I can’t wait for the moment
That something in me sparks –
For that moment where
I can’t resist the pull.
I can’t wait for
The day I rise
Excited
Knowing that for once
There’s more to my Life . . .

 

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Standalone

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I need a little taste of Who I Am
A solid moment of truth
In the absence of you
I don’t wana fall prey to
My circumstance
Bound in chains to
Failed dreams
And things I cannot do.
I hate the desire I feel
When I think of you
I hate how I spend days
In thoughts of you.
I hate wondering
If you lose focus too
In questions of where I am to you.
I want my canvas to be
Untouched by the strokes of you –
Unconsciously done –
On the part of you.
While you go about your Life
I wana live mine too
Unshaken at the possibility
That the fantasy may never come true –
I’m getting tired of
Demanding of the Heavens why
You seem to be living
Comfortably in my blind spot
In a place where I will never see you –
In a place where I can never
Reach you.
I want to feel my own skin
Over my own Being
Without the wonder
Of what you might be thinking
About the stories I tell
On my body with ink
About the thoughts penned in my Journals
When there’s nobody to tell.
I don’t want to wish for you
And beg for you to appear.
I don’t want to alter my plans
Whether or not you’re
On your way here.
I wana do what I do
Because it’s what I choose
A Queen is still A Queen
Even if her King doesn’t follow through.

The Summit

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I know what I want
I wish that I had it
In my mind, I’ve already got it
But I just hate the process of
This living and this painful growth
I mean –
If it’s mine, why can’t I have it though?
Why was I designed to move this slow?
Why can’t I move as fast as I
Wana go?
I could take in the scenery
And the experiences
And look back on all
Of it
Rethink it
For future reference
But
I have grown tired
Of my own Life
And this routine of mine
I much prefer the summit
Over the climb –
I know that there’s a reason
For the way that this Life goes
And I’m aware that all the details
Go beyond what I’ll ever know
I just wish that I could be
Who I am already –
Coz I can’t keep up with
The passion
And enormity
Of my dreams
Unfulfilled . . .

Parachute

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My body aches
My posture is weak
And I cannot sleep
There’s a dip in the mattress
From the curves of my form
And I wonder if you too
Are sleeping alone
Are you waiting for me
Like I wait for you?
Are you also socially inept
And waiting for me to drop in
With my parachute?
Then we’re in trouble
Coz I’m too Me to be moved
I’m tired of making new friends
If none of them is you –
So come to me…

Art . Long . Live

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A part of me wishes I lived that
Highly romanticized Life of An Artist.
You know the one.
Where she moves out on her own
And realizes that Life is not that simple
And she lives out of her car
And for a moment, she considered heading
Home again
Defeated
But then is reborn in the beauty of her Art.
So she
Works just about any job that she can find
At the local Starbucks in the day
Then waiting tables in the night
And she saves up the money
For a small apartment and art supplies
And food and clothes and once again
The World feels right.
Then one day, she’s engaging with her muse
Gazing up a the beauty of the night skies
As the kids enjoy their rebellious youth
And wonder at her stillness as they pass her by
And as her Art speaks to her
Where she stands there, curbside
She is discovered
By a total stranger.
And this stranger fights
And he bats for her
And he defends her and her work
And after one long battle
And a test of Hearts
She wins
She grows
And Long Live Her Art…

 

Grow

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I was gona feel bad but
Really?
What the fuck for?
I’m here
Standing
Miles away from you
And I have to keep moving
In order to grow.
I liked the way I felt
When I felt for you
I liked the way my honesty
Flourished for you
But I kept mySelf good and well for you
And not me
And that’s just something
Not worth struggling for.
I put my best foot forward
And filtered the Words
And stories that I would tell for you
I
Bent over backwards
And pushed my Heart sideways
To make space and light and beauty for you.
And all this
Without you even having to ask
I did this because I was
Built strong
And because I can.
But you held your
You
Back
And withdrew from me and
Had me begging and pleading for you
To let your guard down and let me in
So that I could taste just
One drop of your truth –
I walked right on passed you –
I almost felt bad –
But
WHAT THE FUCK FOR?
I felt mySelf smaller
And in your presence
I shrunk down, still, a little more.
I could not bear losing mySelf
To a being who would
Not give even a tiny glimpse of himself
So I walked
Headlong
A thousand miles from you
Not enough –
I still have a long way to go –

The Friend

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Years ago, I remember.
My sister had a friend, a little older, a grade over.
I remember that she was kind and gentle – I still think of her as –
You know in the movies, and sometimes even in Life, there’s that one person who seems so innocent and trusting and you instinctively just never want to hurt them, ever?
Like, you can’t be mean or angry at them and if you ever find yourself feeling all that stuff, you feel like you’ve failed humanity in some way?
Yeah, she was like that.
I don’t know what kinds of friendship things she got up to with my sister, but I do recall that at one point, she braided my sister’s hair.
I remember thinking how beautiful my sister looked.
But something happened.
I don’t know what.
I don’t know how long it had been that they were friends before it all ended – I was a child that time.
I remember standing in the bus on the way home from school.
The friend was seated in a booth that was empty but for her.
It never occurred to me to sit with her – it never occurred to me to sit down, period.
I was used to standing by this time. I was always pushed out of my seat by the older kids and back then, I was very little. So standing was the way.
I don’t remember if she asked me to sit down and I don’t remember if my sister told me to refuse.
But I do remember the tears in the friend’s eyes when my sister continued to stand – when my sister refused to sit next to her.
I remember thinking how terribly sad she looked, calling my sister over, begging her to sit down.
I remember that one word – please?
I remember being called upon, days later, to pass a letter on to my sister from one of the friends of the friend.
It said that my sister was a shit person and a shit friend.
I will never forget the face of that friend. I will never forget her name. I will never forget how kind she was to me…
I don’t know why that friendship ended and I don’t know what happened to the friend.
We do not speak of it.
I do know, however, how it feels like to beg for the company of someone most cherished, only to be denied – so wholely and completely cast off.
I know that I don’t ever want to be the cause of that kind of pain, to anyone…

The Answer

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In some ways I’m glad you don’t have time for me
I’m glad your day passes without a thought of me
I’m glad that nothing reminds you
Of any of the times you spent with me
Because if it was any other way
You would pull on my Heartstrings
And being who I am
I’d fall happily
I wouldn’t see a damn thing wrong with it
Because
My Heart was designed to grow
And keep growing –
I’m glad you don’t even check on me
That sends a message clear and clean –
It allows me to keep my head on straight
And walk on forward
And keep walking
I knew you would never admit that
You were bad for me –
You would never admit that you were
Bad
Genuinely
So I asked my question to the swaying winds
And the answer was
Your silence
My inner peace…