Overbearing is (s)caring

It's the monsters,
It's the Marijuana,
It's the parking tickets and late night dramas,
Played on repeat for the boring wearing Prada.
It's nirvana,
It's namaste,
It's in the way we make power plays through out a difficult day.
Now so awake when we lay.
In diphenhydramine dreams we cope with bug bites and bee stings.
When sleep brings the OTP of your slice of life creation.
Go to work.
Perform your job.
Force some courteous vocalization.
Talk about nations collapsing and pocket relations.
Boast about being the forefront generation.
With your "bravery" and beauty.
Stunted solicitation of a rising population.

~~~~~~~

So we sleep with one eye leaking;
Feet that feel retreat cwhen they start leaping.
Now the all consuming question left is
"Am I only dreaming?"
Believing in those common lives,
Relieving when we tell ourselves we're doing fine while buttons stuck to rewind.
Nevermind.
Just now thought to mention previous pretension in the form of weak metaphors and Sunday stall confession.
No nonsense,
No need for condescension.
Just thought they were all a crock of rot and you were right.
Always right.

~~~~~~~

Words are just pictures that require a different eye to see.
And so we swap our perfect thoughts for those like
"Let it be."

~~~~~~~

Wasting space,
Or making waste,
Or saving grace for saving face.
Always finding evidence congruent with a cold case.
It's always over.
It's always locks broken by the only key holder.

~~~~~~~

It was a long way down.
A long way down to the bottom,
The brink with a bottle and the loneliness you keep.
The wound is rather deep.

It was a long way down.
A long way down to the piano stool,
Where I wrote a song to name it after you.
The blood began to pool,
And the loneliness was rising in the pistols that we drew.
I'd always been a blatant fool.

~~~~~~~

Said I was gonna write.
Never thought I'd have to tell myself to write.
Alright.
I've got some paper,
Now,  save the feeling sorry for later.
Create a fancy line of words that mouths are meant to savor.
Now lay it down here.
Or something.
There's always something,
Even if it's just the must be's and the nothing's.

It was meant to mold you.

Awake for the moment,
but half asleep the base component,
for productive twenty something trying to feign condolence,
For you're life.
Yeah,
I've heard it, that the world is filled with strife.
Or something like that.
It's a well laid track we follow the second we sip the sap.
That shit is poison.
Never trust their smiles or they'll have you by the loins end,
Or worst yet, they'll twist you till ya bend,
And then you'll mend into the title of a friend.

God send or just be sent away.
How do you prove your worth when you're not making someone's day?
Get dazed and cope with all that loneliness you crave.
A corpse bathed in rest.
Now what are you to do when there is nothing left?
Take that breath you've been holding?
You're feelings are the drywall and their reasons are the molding.
Man, why even play that hand if you're just gonna fold?
Another way to prove that it's in getting old.

A valley with a bird.
Whispers are familiar when they say that word.
Never have you ever claimed that you were not absurd.
Why can't they just take you at your word?

Come here now.
Move it to the right.
Now pirouette and tell me all about your strife.
All about how your were always right and no one picked a fight with your opinion.
Now dance for me demonic minion.

The Girl does have some Sense

But the beginnings of a very important epiphany started that day. And over the months, on a rainy July night I stood in the middle of an empty side street and stared through the rain. I wasn't wearing a jacket, just some dress and boots I wore to a party I just came from. I'd just walked a friend of mine home and stopped to enjoy the warm summer rain. The end of that big epiphany hit me hard. So hard I no longer felt the rain, or the breeze, or even notice the dim streetlights. I realized that in order to understand life, you need to live it. Because no one knows what they were put here for until they've gone through a whole lot. And the only way to do that, is to continue living and enjoying every second. Till I truly understand what I was put here for, I've come across a calling of sorts. Writing. My grandfather once told me you cannot live life happily if you don't know why you live. But I responded to him in the middle of that street that night. Instead of just nodding in agreement I said to myself "You cannot know why you live, if you don't live happily."

There's more to me than you'll ever see on the surface. Tell me when you're ready to swim, because I've got gear so you'll survive the depths. And hopefully you'll eventually let me swim in your ocean. then we can dry off and laugh about the past, and how vibrantly the future shines.