Shorts.

I know not of which to prefer
The beauty in not acknowledging
or the ugly that is the inevitable.
-Truth.
The broken-hearted sing a song confusing
to most,
A tug of war over reality and optimism
torture or protection
With each, I am renamed perplexed.  

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      .”Take away Take away my stability and I am reckless
Remove my trust and I am a monster;
For a moment, just to be safe
I am your worst nightmare.

We
We humans
We live in feelings
not breaths, not choices.
We live in moments
Aiming to once again feel
Another minute, another year
Another lifetime.
We humans
We live in hope
Hoping to know the outcome
Of whatever we seek
But we
We cannot re-live memories
For it is too familiar
Like setting fire to remnants
No ash will burn the same as before.

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DEAR,

Ahem.

I know its probably really weird for you to get a letter from your future and all, but I have an important message to give. I woke up the other morning being reminded of that damn past, you know..the present that you are in. I saw that you thought of self-erasure while walking with your chin down to avoid the difference in your eyes, let me tell you a story. I found myself reminiscing about a day I was sitting in class and one of my classmates told other classmates that God does hate. I thought, “God hates? God, why would God, who has the power to create, create someone he’d hate?” Rather advanced for my little mind, but I always went back to the question because no matter how many smart people I talked to they never knew the answer. My secrets were like the colors of dark skin in days of oppression, think those days are still going though but that’s another story. Since that day in class when my classmate said that to the other classmates I walked around school scattered, I was a dissembled clutter box, my mind couldn’t fathom, God hating me would be bad right? I mean…then I’d have to go to hell! I heard it was hot down there and they didn’t have any good books to read, that’s important to me ya know since it’s hard to escape from a world with no imagination. I live freely here on earth and like to escape to different places thats probably how I am able to write you this letter. Oh, back to your day…it gets easier when you come to be my age in the future. not because the people evolve, but because you evolve, learning to hug yourself the tightest, the hold is so strong no one can pry your arms away. You come out, being a bigger person meaning you can make up your own answers, your perception of truth is nestled and protected both underneath your rib cage and in the your head but just in case you didn’t get the memo I wanted to write this to you, it gets easier, love is a quiet message but when you hear it, it speaks much louder than hate and boy does it say some sweet sweet things. You like to write right? I remember you being afraid to show your work because it sounded too gay, don’t. Paint with the brightest colors cause you light up the world each and every time you place the brush against the canvass. Sway through each and every room, don’t be afraid to look into their eyes because that intimidates them, which is fun…I mean..cause everybody already knows everything, right? So that means you can go on skipping in the direction of knowing the truth..You, you are truth. You keep the message going, kid.

Sincerely,

You, approaching.

Freestyle Poetry

A random poem sitting in my collection from like 3 years ago! lol, thought I’d share.

Didn’t know which to prefer,
the happiness that is your love..
Savagely searched, selfishly kept,
or the truth that is your distrust

I am a lying bastard, and you..you are  love.
We both search for ecstasy
soaring in open skies, just us two alone, or so we thought.

We then bump into the wings of a number three,
number 3 being another she;
Thump!
She knocked us down to the ground, back to earth;

I think you fell the hardest, because you cried out in
pain.
Said your insides hurt the most, something was broken
Pointing to your chest..

I told you that mending that pain would require me to
perform magic tricks and stunts,

 to be gone. Poof! Me dissipating is your antidote.

Freestyle Poetry-Stepping Back

Like a skybox
I sit inside you watching time stop.
Reading your every emotion like a magazine subscription
You are the hands that plant my life into earths sand.
Breathing you as if I am on life support.
Ive traveled many distances
Just to follow in your footsteps
Counting back 10, 9, 8 , 7, 6..
My daily exercise and I never get tired cause
The hope is what rejuvenates me.

Waterfalls

Picking off the remaining paint chips on my nail beds
Nervous because I wanted a chance to see the waterfalls
on your face. Exotic. I imagine it to be like visiting
the tropics of Niagara.
Your pain equals a long awaited relief to replace the hurt you’ve caused, shows that I’ve won the war of hearts,
even though you were the first to break mine.
The water falling is like a glue to piece it back together.