Perhaps the fork can feast
on this tightrope ‘tween the broken plates.
I stumble into the street,
hit with false ferocity.
A lesson in sight reading
where truth tangles with lies.
She is the teacher, I am the pupil,
studying every line.
A cinderblock wall
on the verge of collapse.
The floor begins to buckle
under the weight of this dance.
She is the anvil,
the sidewalk weed,
the rain that waters it,
the toxic seed.
If you are in a storm,
let the rain fall as it may,
and know that a rainbow awaits you
once the clouds go away.
When you reach the time
when that light turns on,
when you believe the self-reflection,
what it tells you, what you see,
I hope you find the help you need.
We are not put here with the
wherewithal to heal,
or express how we feel.
One generation can’t teach another
when they weren’t taught to deal
with the single hardest thing there is to do:
confront our trauma
before it spreads from me to you.
There is no guide
to explain
this cyclical pain.
And standing up to it can feel
like standing in front of a train
moving at full speed,
hoping that you’ll be
the switch track you need.
But please…
Know that to not know
is completely okay,
as long as you seek the answers
to the questions that keep you at bay,
on the edge of pride and peace,
I hope you finally can begin to find relief.
My mind is a traffic jam
of words and thoughts.
I thought I ought to
write them down.
But as I approach the scene
I see a crash,
so I look for
another way around.
Where will it appear?
In my mind it’s always there.
Infiltrating thoughts
and creating more.
But physically, how will it show?
A tick in the hands, shoulders, neck or face.
Which subconscious choice
will lead to today’s disgrace?
As my heart races,
my anxiety settles in.
Making its home
in a space too familiar.
I wish I could wish it gone,
to not be burdened by its grip,
wondering where it will appear,
tick
after
tick.
Sometimes I wonder where it comes from.
Sometimes I tell myself I’m fine.
Sometimes I wonder where it goes when it’s gone.
Sometimes, in my mind.
The quiet grows louder
Silence builds and builds
Chest tightens harder
The quiet grows louder
Silence builds and builds
Chest tightens harder
And the quiet grows
Chest grows tighter
Silence builds
The quiet
Builds
The silence tightens
Chest
Louder
Builds and builds
Grows louder
Tightens harder
The quiet
The silence
The chest
The mind. The mind. The mind.
All around seems normal
But all is not the same.
You look around and wonder
Why am I looking from the outside in?
There must be a reckoning
Recovery
Result
There must be a reckoning
A Recovery
A Result
A way to capture sunlight when the clouds block your view.
Running from nothing, always running from nothing,
Running for something that isn’t there.
Show me how
Slow me down
Show me how
Slow me down
Running from nothing.
Separate the senses.
Hold them and listen.
It’s going to be okay.
It’s going to be okay.
Hold them and listen.
Separate the senses.
It’s going to be okay.
It’s going to be okay.
Blind the light.
Recognize moment.
Breathe through the hysteria.
Exhale confusion.
Inhale relief.
The fear enters the blood stream — my veins harden at the thought.
The doubt sews and ties the wires up above, but short circuits abound.
Smoke clouds sight.
It’s no wonder it’s called the nervous system.
Too negative. Too destructive. Too worried.
About a state of mind that tends to takeover.
A state I only tell you about,
for others eyes would roll at the suggestion.
About worry itself.
It’s perhaps my greatest fear of all.
About why sitting still is one of life’s impossibilities.
About why silence is often too loud.
A heart this full never yearns for something new,
only more of what it already has.
But a heart this full knows no greed,
it knows to love all it has.
Take it from a man who pleads for peace,
but a man who can find himself lost on chaotic roads.
I fought my way through enough dark corners to know illumination is my destined path.
I smile with lips, but my mindset is ethereal,
trapped by the sight of your glimmering eyelashes looking up at me.
Your cheery grin is reflected in your bright eyes.
My heart never looks for a way out.
Instead, it rests knowing all that I possess.
And for these mere moments, I want nothing more,
I need nothing more than what I see.
For I am a witness to my own dreams,
coming true right in front of me.
Staring across the range
from who knows how many feet high,
sitting in the window seat.
But I’m distracted by the pinnacle.
A career turn ahead,
I’m sitting in the drivers seat.
Heavily it rests on my mind
already pulled thin at times.
I am strong.
Thankful she is stronger.
Thankful my love will travel
to wherever my mind deems best.
Only a matter of time before my heart interferes.