WHAT GOES UP
Don’t know why I try to reach out.
Every time I pull back my hand,
My fingertips are scorched
Burnt by the rejections of so many
Lovers change their minds
Parents neglect their duties
Even God has, on so many occasions,
Turned his or her proverbial back on my tears
All supposedly for my own good.
I am left to fend for myself
As the sudden stench of bullshit hits my nose.
It makes me ill,
But not as ill as the people that profess to love me
But constantly let me fall and help me fail
So I sit back, smoke a square
And prepare to grasp at branches and ropes,
Loosely tied to some sort of slightly solid ground
So I can climb back to the top. Alone.
REMEMBER
Remember…
Who you are and what you are
What you have learned and what you have taught
To love others and yourself
That you are no better than anyone else,
Or no worst, for that matter
Remember…
The people that have come before you and those that will follow.
That the struggle then, now and in the future is a continuum,
So don’t be afraid of failure, for it is natural
Remember…
That wisdom is passed down,
So listen to the voice that annoys you the most,
For it is that sound that will someday save your life
Remember…
To love with your whole heart,
Because any other way is incomplete.
WRITER’S BLOCK
Sometimes I think there is a direct correlation between getting my heart broken and writer’s block.
There is a definite need to express the pain that I feel, yet no words can describe the tearing, searing pain of rejection.
Wait. That works.
TEARING AND SEARING…
My heart is torn from its place in my chest, and you laugh at me as I fall to the ground.
Waiting to wake up or hoping for a fast painless death.
Anything is better than heartbreak.
You know that heartache is bad when you can actually feel your chest cave in
And there is nothing you can do or say
You just sit there, on your knees
Looking at your blood-soaked hands
Truly amazed and disturbed by your lack of heartbeat.
SOMETHING BEAUTIFUL
You tell me to write you something beautiful, but it’s so hard to do because you won’t fit on this page.
We won’t fit on this page.
The greatness that is you, the blood that pumps through your heart, that makes you who you are, it won’t flow through this pen.
The passion that is us
The fire that consumes us
That moves us
Would burn holes in my rhyme books and blow circuits on my laptop.
The love that I feel for you cannot be put into mere words and the love I see in your eyes won’t fit between these lines.
Beauty is us.
It is the way we move together
The way we feel
The way we fit together
So I cannot write you something beautiful…. today.
