i want you to know that
most of the time i am nothing
more than lost moments.
i am many things that are not myself
clumped into a soft vessel: bits and
pieces of surroundings i’ve vacuumed
into my being. i will always be
collecting seashells. and though my
vision may change, i promise
my laughter will never be stale, my
kisses will never be forced, and
no matter who you evolve into,
i will love you.
the mind of a poet
is composed mainly of
metaphors. memories
tucked away in dusty attic corners,
scents that reek of sadness
and love. it is always full,
always thoughtful,
almost always awake.
conscious.poets digest more in their minds
than their stomachs. always chewing
chewing chewing on
thoughts and words. always connecting
neurons to each other,
composting every experience to
fertilize the mind.
not always fruitful, but
always growing.
why are we always running
from this?
the galaxies behind
our eyelids. the answers
in our breaths. in-out in-out.
constant. steady. being.
there is a universe
within you;
why are you scared of
getting lost?
THROWBACK THURSDAY!!
So I thought something fun to start doing with the blog is to have “Throwback Thursday” every Thursday and reblog an older poem of mine so newer followers can read work that’s kind of buried in the back of the blog! So here’s the first throwback! 🙂
i am changing,
evolving. like the earth
(i was born from), i am
constantly eroding and
collecting. i am growing
strong and breaking down
walls. I am always made of
something new.
read my words
and you will
dissolve under my skin,
you will be the spirit behind
these scleras.
you will hear the earth crying
into the arms of the universe.
you will smell
destruction.
read my words and you will
understand
me.
If an artist created an extremely unique painting, they would work very hard not to sell it for any less than what they believed it was worth. Well, guess what? You are both the artist and the painting. Believe in your worth and do not sell yourself short.
we are chiseled
from clouds to be
strong yet fragile. we must
weep, but we must
comfort those who are
weeping also. our lives
cannot be any
messier than the kitchen counter
before having guests over.
we must always make
a good impression.
we will be everything
so you don’t have to be,
and we will still be weak
in your eyes.
Is that an invitation in your eyes? Or are they just reflecting mine?
we’re pressing pause
with ocean water on our faces.
you’re pressing play
with syrup in your veins.
this ship is going down;
one by one
we throw you our life
jackets so you may stay afloat–
we’re already sinking anyways.large waves are hitting us now,
water blanketing the floor.
you throw your head back and laugh
and jump overboard.
all lifejackets with us, even
yours.
nothing we had could
save you.
the whole world’s
pulsing
at sixty two beats per minute.
you can feel it
in the rain. i’m not sure
if it’s a ticking time bomb
waiting to explode
or if something in the
gears are jammed.
i just wanted to
stop spinning
for a while.
Silenticel 