Warning Sign

Thoughts that go through my head while lying facedown on my yoga mat listening to "Warning Sign":

Who do I miss? What do I want to miss. Why is writing so hard I am in the same kind of state this is just like when I loved shooting star by Harper simon I listened tothat a billion times it reminds me of when I went through the same phase when i was a janitor. i was into things like healing katniss and ed sheeran. i need to find something to make me come alive a gain. what can that kind of thing be. is it a person. i doubt that. no one wpud want that burden. i am an island.

i am doing much better. i am tlking to people, right?! but i just am finding out what kind of state i am in. it looks like a bunch of others, but i think this one is unique. or rather not unique just different than what i am used to. this hurts my head

the fireworks are going off and i wait for a scream of someone who wasn't ready. the scream of someone who didn't want to go. but they didn't handle fire very well. i feel like i am the same wayl. although sometimes i feel like i am fire. freedom it cries freedom. give me air GIVE ME AIR but i can't let it out because i don't have my gloves on yet and then i just loose some of the spark and then i feel dull and lifeless like my fire has been burned out and i have to flash lights in an empty fireplace to keep people warm. but no one depended on the life of my fire right? I did I need that warmth within me. otherwise the shadows play darkly against the walls of my soul.

what left? i can't figure out how it was extinguished. did i not feed it. was i too cruel. did it need love? i can't find it out. so i write. and i write and i write because for me writing is like breating sometimes. i can't go out ad run and go five miles, as much as i want to. but instead i am trapped here in a body that i don't feel is mine. i cannot hold it properly because it beongs to someone else. thta is a perfect description of the feeling. i know i have had dreams like this.

i need to breathe. i need to let out all that tar and dust and crap until i can breathe again. this whole place is too constrictiong, i think i will scream. istead of screaming i write. and i warite and my computer feels the pressure of my tension because this is where the strong men feel pain.

i want to be enveloped in nothing ness. in the dark blue and grey and black of your deepest thoughts. i want to be numbed and find that because i am living in a limbo right now. a sad limbo. it is a grotesque place. i can't feel anthing very keenly. it is like i have been taken to a file. no longer sharp. just a blunt place. can you tell me something worth writing for?

i just wantto sleep and dream. is this depression?

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Star-Crossed

Love of writing, that is what propels me here every time
Every time I am lost
Words take my hand, and lead me back
with warm, dry touch
Take me home to the home I know

Sharing the seat, sipping my tea
I listened to you talk about meat drums, shellfish, and sex
Homeboys, and dubstep
I marveled at your command of language and
wished I could be eloquent

Then I remembered this.
My haven.
No one knows about my Descartes.
My premise.
It is an ethnic hole in the wall restaraunt when you are starving
A red tinted light when your head throbs near explosion
That cool, blue breeze

Where have you gone, my sweet treehouse dear?
Come sit on the greening wood with me
Smell the dampness and the moss and the magic
Moist oak
Sweet leaves
Nirvana

It was there where I first put my head in your lap
Held your hand
Was honest

Those summer nights that were so deep blue with an outline of purple
My dreams make them glisten silver
Truth and love, maple and oak, stars through leaves
That was my Six Pence None The Richer
That was my tireswing

After you left, I sat there
The trees and I. We were never alone.
One day I stood at the top of our home, and looked down
Down
         Down
                    D
                      O
                         W
                            N

Till I splintered the wood and broke the skin on my ankle
I couldn't do it
I had to keep living so I could meet you again
To die in this limbo would condemn me to purgatory
A middle ground without you
Might as well be Hell

That one night by the sea
You kissed me for the first time
You were scared, but the moon gave you strength, you said
You were sacred
Like deja vu, I will always love the salty breath
Sand in my toes
Rush of the water

That moment is Holy was Holy will ever be Holy
the angel fish marked it in their kelp books
with a coral pencil
are they human because they look at the stars
or do the stars look at them because they are human

+

Kiss Me

The cheshire smile of the moon draws the clouds into the great and eternal jest.

That glimpse of some celestial humor was unintentional and the laughter is shielded from my view

How fickle the moon

That sublime jester

How resplendent are the rays of silver that open the world up

The air clears of everything and you breathe into you the life of the universe

The stars fill your lungs and your exhale expels all traces of mortality from your slender and fragile frame

Pause

Feel the light on your face.

Sense the clarity that comes what you sift your thoughts and allow the heavy ones to stay?

The weight of them keeps you grounded.

The scale of them lifts your head to the sky

Dreamers never belong in earth.

Their mind gives them wings

But the coolness of space frightens their warm hearts

The traveler knows the coolness and loves the way the breeze washes over skin

Everything becomes sensual

Feeling is absorbed through every possible venue

You hang there, suspended in pure and ethereal sensitivity

Cerebral awareness is a new sensation

This.

This is what it means to be alive.

Everything becomes possible in a moment: ---|---

Swinging on a tireswing

Floating on a river with a summer breeze

Eating buttery corn on the cob

running through a barley field

screaming

dancing with one hand waving free

giving someone a hug

silk sheets on your bare skin

sand in between the toes

someone’s hand in yours

being kissed

kissing someone back

laughing into someone’s hair

sharing something you have written

Laying on a porch swing

Finding love.

Be alive.

Find that time in your mind to allow your mind to roam.

To fly.

Life is too short not to live it fully.