But The Voices in Your Head

You.

I am so glad 

that you are here.

I was wondering when you would stumble my way

and read the words that you know are written 

across your doubt-stricken heart.

But it doesn't have to be this way.

No, 

No.  

It never had to be this way.

I was wondering 

when you would find yourself

so uncomfortably 

down upon your knees

begging for someone to make sense of things.  

But the voices in your head

no

they aren't going to be the ones to tell you

where to go from here.

No.

no.

But, my god, how loud they do scream!

You.

you.

I am so, so very glad that you are here.

I was wondering

when you would come to question your very motives

but since you are here

listening to my words

it had to be sooner

rather than 

later.

Why did you choose this

in the first place?

Do not tell me

this is not your own fault.

Do not 

lie to me.

I knew you would falter.

I knew you would stumble.

I knew 

more than anything

that your character 

could crumble.

But it hoped,

no,

I begged,

that it wouldn't 

destroy the ones you loved.

A Cup of Coffee

I smile

Because I am 

alive

and 

I am 

with you.

~

Words left unsaid over the morning coffee and the enlightened smirks 

that sit behind their warm cups.  

Like Confetti

A shattered glass
litters the floors
like confetti
the day after
the grand event.

It's just kind of sad.

I let out
an exhausted
sigh.

He was supposed to be here.

But he isn't.

Instead,
I sit beside the open window
with a heavy
anxiety
that I toss between my hands.

Nails scratching at
dried skin
as I grate the uncertainty
out of myself.

Momentary deep breaths.

He was supposed to be here.

Like confetti.

He said he would be here.

The day after the grand event.

He said.

I let out
an
exhausted
sigh. 

He.

A shattered glass.

I never got to say 

Momentary deep breaths.

Goodbye.  

The Farm (incomplete)

A father
to his son
once spoke
words
that appeared
to fall
on deaf
ears.

Each day
this father
labored away
with hopes
of an
eventual
harvest.

Seasons passed
and
to no avail.

Seasons past
he reflects
now
-memories so
frail.

A father
to his son
once spoke
words
that appeared
to fall
on deaf
ears,
but that
boy-

boy,
did he try.

Each day
he labored away
with hopes
of creating
a harvest.

Seasons passed
and
the crops
each one would
fail.

Seasons past
he reflects
now
-memories
written in braille.

This father,
his heart aching
to see
his young son
grow,

persisted each day.

Sleepless nights.
Troublesome days.

This son,
his heart aching
to be
a young man,
-to know.

self-loathing of his own dismay.

Sleepless nights.
Troublesome days.

As each of them toiled
and troweled,
sifting through
the barren fruits
of their shared
labor-
uncertain of who
was failing
who.

The guilt
whispering
of failing
the other.

Their hands
burned with
broken blisters,
oozing
out the
last bits
of infected
pride.

Deserving the World

We think ourselves
too broken to move on
too broken
to deserve more than
the here and now.

Maybe we are right.

Maybe we are so utterly broken
and despaired
that we owe it to ourselves
and mayhap
to the world
to never leave the nexus
of our own being
again.

I don't know
much though.

To be frank,
Some days
I feel like I don't know
anything.

But I will tell you
what I think...

I think that at the end of it all
when it has all been said and done
you will get
what you deserve.

And I hope,
for your own sake,
that you deserve the world.

Constructed Demise

Waves collide
with a raging sea.

Lightning
crashes, spewing electricity.

Wind shrieks
across the dark, clouded skies.

This storm will be
the world's demise.

(Trust me)
The world
is
becoming
dismantled.

The world,
well,
she's being tipped on her side.

My heart
is skipping
beats
in between
my shortcomings
and my not-good-enoughs.

(I stop
to remember you.)

The drummer drums on
and the days move forward like
fucking clockwork. 

(It's amazing how nobody seems to care.)

~

I am trapped in a glass house
screaming to be let out
as I watch the hurricane approach.

My God,
I want to live.

I want to escape from this prison
This hell
that has enveloped me.

I am trapped in a glass house
and you may think,
"My goodness, this place looks rather nice."
But I am telling you
I am telling you
I
am telling
you
that this place is rotting from the inside
out
and I am dying to be free
from the prison
constructed within me.

~

Waves collide
with a raging sea.

Lightning
crashes, spewing electricity.

Wind shrieks
across the dark, clouded skies.

This storm will be
my own constructed demise.

Venom. Guilt.

Venom-filled eyes
to match your resenting grin.

Maybe the stone was thrown
too far this time
but a simple toss
couldn't have pushed
you this far.

This room is filled
with this bright and vibrant light
but no matter my outside world
my insides only reflect
a deep guilt
that you may never recognize
how much
I love you.

How much I have sacrificed.

How much I (uncontrollably)
care.

My grandfather died
resented by his children
and mayhap
I will die
the same way.

I suppose
I can empathize.
-
It doesn't take the pain
away.
-

My veins
are washed black
by the poison
inside of you.