To: A best friend

Andy.
I've discredited you far too often.
I've thought you to be one who pleases the masses,
One shallow and dumb.
I was at great fault for such.
You've proven me wrong through years of discussions.
Every pretension of men that I think, was broken or mended by you.
I expected you to be the first to leave.
Oh, contradictory, you have not, and promise you never will.
You are not gratuitous, and for that I am thankful.
Never do you pretend, and you're so awful at hiding your feelings.
But no one looks down on you for your honesty.
Rather, they appraise you for it. For your truth.

Brother.
Unnumbered, the things we have seen.
Standing side by side, gazing as the world tears itself down and then rebuilds.
Galloping after dreams that disappear like stars when morning breaks.
Mourning, but able to kneel before setting out again.
We've owned a fair share of quarrels and misunderstandings,
But a bond of the same goal knots us together as if we were blood.
Amidst our failures, after our Lord do we seek.
In these calamitous days when the sky dismounts,
And those we trusted got scared and run,
Seasons when to our parents we smirked,
And pushed through barbed wire gates without knowing why-
Somehow our alike love and need of the Savior has kept us from certain death.

Friend.
You are an answer to prayers I did not know I pleaded.
God knew I could not live alone.
God knew I needed a friend so strong.
One who “weeps with those who weep,
And rejoices with those who do rejoice.”
One who teases me without avail and throws snowballs in my face,
But in the same breath reminds me of my worth.
One who does not lead me astray,
But encourages me to live a life of purpose.
I am unable to thank you sufficiently.
Just know, I am forever grateful to God for you.
“Sometimes I'm a selfish fake, you're always a true friend.
I don't deserve you cause I'm not there for you,
Though how I wish I could be.”

she was right handed...i could tell.

she was right handed...i could tell.
seven black red scars formed perfect lines from her wrist up on her left arm.

when first i saw her i was baffled as to why one so young should take upon her the mundane sweaty work of papa johns pizza. as i watched her still, i gathered that by her maturity and familiarity with the labor, she had to be older than the twelve i imagined her to be.
then i saw the scars.
my mind went a'reeling as my eyes immediately diverted to the floor.
gradually, out of curiosity, they lifted again.
why?! what happened to this child?
she was not exactly ugly. rather, she was somewhat beautiful. she had a mass of spiral curls held flat under her papa john's visor. she wore cutoff shorts to the knee and crocs with white socks. her eyes were brown. no. they were not brown. they were azure and sea foam. they were happiness stomped out. they were love hidden. they were dull and crumbling and decomposing in a casket.
"may i help you?"
i wanted to say that she could. she could come in my car and we could drive to a park and swing on the swings and talk. she could tell me why, the whole story, why she went through hell. she could cry, sob into my shirt. she could slap me for my ignorance of hurting people. she could scream until her throat bled. she could show me the razors or knifes or pieces of glass she used, and where she kept them so no one would see. she could show me everything she'd written in her blood.
but that didn't happen.
i said i was picking up an order for hannah smith and she gave it to me and told me to have a nice night.
i wanted to tell her jesus loves her. i wanted to tell her i love her. i wanted to tell her how beautiful she is. i wanted to tell her i was praying for her. i wanted to tell her i would never forget her.
but that didn't happen either.
i smiled kindly and told her thanks, you too.

Sepia-toned Outcast

There were to be stars falling all night.
This was the excuse she reasoned, while her quiet stocking feet sled down the oak stairs. Creeping out, feigning the cringe of the swollen door, she stalked out into what felt like endless black. The grass was wet, and she was poorly clothed, but she reclined nevertheless. Immediately, the dank was felt through and through. Touched but not felt. She was far to cold inward to acknowledge nature's greeting.
Someone had lied.
There were no stars. Only colorless clouds that hid Sky. In her narrow patch of vision, encompassed by trees, she made out the sepia gray tone of the night sky. Somewhere across the street an orange streetlight was humming.
It was very loud. The crickets and frogs and bats and birds all made chaos with their cacophony voices. There was no silence.
She rolled to her side. Then face down. The little cold she could feel felt good on her wounded legs. The grass smelled of reality. The green side of it. The greener side of it. She thought to herself how she wouldn't mind laying this way for the remainder of her life.
Father should be arriving soon. Maybe she could fall asleep or die, so that he might love her once afraid of loosing her. 'He doesn't even like me.'I wonder if he could care. No, probably not. Probably scream at her for scaring him and keeping him awake looking for her. 'All the better reason to die,' something nearby but far away kissed. But that was nothing new.
To die would be to take the easy way out.
And there were still no stars.

to:

no resolution.
im fine.

weary of unrequited emancipation.
neon green drones 'exit' sign ahead.
i dont give a damn
where i flee.
into anothers rough embrace
or loneliness acropolis.
so long. writhe write right away from you.
i dont want

no resolution.
im fine.

glassy

it is quite simple, really.
love is opium.
addicting. sucks life-trust after injection of numbing feeling.
like a bat.
i am the victim.
unaware of decomposition.
until red-violet emits from my
sea-green eyes.

tonight

"you will never know what you have done to me"
"i guess were all in imminent danger"
"is this heaven or is this hell"
"forget love, i just want you to make sense to me tonight"
"my eyes are black and charcoal theyre so imperfect"
"i am the fast sinking anchor"
"you are the scar on my tissue that i show all of my new friends"
"build me a home inside your scars love, its the only place i ever will belong"
"take me anywhere, wherever youre going, because nobody wants me here"
"heaven knows im just trying to find a cure for the pain"
"ive spent ten years trying to sing these doubts away, but the water just keeps falling from my eyes"
"ive been learning how to die"
"its like a thousand paper cuts soaked in vinegar"
"im leaving today, is what you said and i turned and walked away"
"we all learn to make mistakes and run from them...with no direction"
"the hardest part is letting go"
"it hurts it burns it hurts it burns it hurts it burns"
"every little kiss and grin you gave was just a little bullshit that i saw through"
"i let myself be taken just for the thrill"
"youre a dirty rotten liar"
"you painted me in pastel....so weak so little purpose"
"i should have turned back i should have known better rather than to walk away defeated"
"life is pain, highness"
"there will always be unkind people"
"i miss who we were"
"i cant take you this far"
"she is beautiful, but she didnt mean a thing to me"
"step one: light me on fire step two: walk clean away"
"my mind tells my heart i told you so i told you so"
"tragedy seems unending im watching everyone i looked up to break and bending"
"the skies are gray and its all i see"



"i cant help but love you"

My Own Caterbury Tale

I, Deirdre, will no longer to Kate be slaved,

As flight of a white owl, I will flee this disheartening cave.

With parting kisses and suffered adieus,

I will depart with my patched sack and rapture anew.

To halls of ivy will I there find relief-

Acquiring fine knowledge of art and literature that I seek.

Until the bright when alive come impelled dreams

In a London artisan central will I breathe.

Educating those the arts which we both so love,

As my journalist's pen will etch words not yet tongued.

One day to find him whose amour yet unsurpassed,

And abide together always, that our plans may never cease to amass.

I am adamant to fly, yet chained to a tree,

To see the world, to understand, please, let me go and be.

“I am growing tired of bedside resolve. Public display of depression.

And I grow tired of writing songs where people listen but never hear what's really going on.”

Myself in song form

"The Artist"
Hush Sound

I know that you're an artist,
you're the hardest one to deal with.
Everything that you conceal
is revealed on your canvas.

You find all of your ugly meanings
in the things I find beautiful.
Do you see the fall is coming?
Come, I'm falling into you.

You perceive all of these things
I'd never have known.
Love, will you turn off the lights?
'cause we're already home.

You painted me in pastel,
colors that don't tell of any boldness.
That's the way you'd love to see me:
so delicate, so weak, so little purpose.

But your eyes are drawn of charcoal
they're black, they're so cold, they're so imperfect.
Because they see a sleeping world,
where waking isn't worth it.

You perceive all of these things
I'd never have known.
Love, will you turn off the lights?
'cause we're already home.

How, how, can you live without your lies.
Oh, oh, love I've had enough of you tonight.
All of these things I'd never have known, oh.
love will you turn out the lights 'cause we're already home, oh.
You perceive all of these things
I'd never have known, oh.
Love will you turn out the lights,'cause we're already home, home.

me, Raindrop

"girl, you are like summer rain, soft, and warm, and delicate. and i am a foolish boy, trying to catch every drop of you on my tounge. but theres just too many, and i can't get enough."
i am fallen of Father sky.
i am the grieving tears of old men clouds.
i am life.
purity.
joy.
i am death.
filth.
sorrow.
i am too much.
i destroy what has been precariously planted in the hot sun.
i am not enough.
i kill the innocent because i do not give of myself.
i am soft and warm and delicate.
i am biting and cold and brash.
i maim fragile butterflies so they never again fly.
i provide that glorious sound echoing on the rooftop that makes orphans smile.
you can't catch me, i can't even catch myself.
"if you can't find yourself how can i expect to find you."
you will never get enough of me, i am incapable of allowing it.
you can't capture me without deriving me of my purpose.
"you can't rescue me, you aint that strong."
you cannot depend on me.
for i cannot be trusted.
this is my fate.
and all i have ever know.

my Spark

she is an oddity.
separate from the whole, and would give her very life to fly opposite of trite normal.
she is hypnotizing illumination.
radiant, reminding all of her glorious Father.
she is the one that even babes comprehend.
she is the one that no one understand.
she awes with her beauty and ability to soar above all, swirling upwards to calligraphy like midnight dogwoods.
she is feared.
untamed.
fatal.
evaded because of the painful singe of reality she uncannily bestows.
she spirals freely downward, all aglow and joyful.
parents pull their children away.
she descends on hard cracked earth for a breath.
so incandescent, though on our level.
then she is stomped out.
not only killed.
murdered.
after all, she is an influence.
she has potential so much to set our universe afire.
to incinerate the dead and superficial.
she is never sought after.
no, she will burn you, nothing more.
only by other sparks is she loved.
because we understand.

This hurts me more than I can stand to say in just one sitting

I don't know how to handle myself. This unsurity and pain is so prevalent, always creeping around the corner. I even find myself literally running from it. Like I can't stay in the same place for fear my demons will find me. I want to be free, yet am far too proud to hide. So I skip away. The kind of skipping done when in fear. It satisfies everyone, but my heart palpitates inside with terror. I apologize if I fly from you. It's all I know how to do at this point.

"I'm going away for awhile, but I'll be back don't try and follow me."