Snowmen

I understand now why people get dogs.
And what do I really know of the great beyond?
Truth, bulldozing my path.
Pain, my sure-fire escape to a better life.

These years are sailing by
with little more than a trail in the sky.
I fall back into this so easy.
You made my mind stir, the house I built with twigs, the mind that waits until nightfall.

“Oh my..” she whispered,
the room went chill
my eyes went blind,
how I viewed myself
when i fell so far behind.

The snow in my palms, watching the children build forts, making snowmen– repelling adulthood.
The laughter of minds not yet spent, replacing the pain I feel in my head.
Its only temporary.
Not the first or the last.
This too shall pass,
with vigilance..
no regrets.

Creature Comfort

I have an iPod 5,000 songs deep,
and I listen to the same 15 songs
rotating in and out every week.
Failure, Wu-Tang- -Quicksand,
A battle between
“Delusional”, “The Nurse Who Loved Me”, maybe “C.R.E.A.M.”

I can’t pretend to exchange
comfort for change.
I’m ok with here,
I know whats next, and how it’s arranged.
Looking more and more like a soundtrack
of passing cars, texting drones with one finger on the wheel,
their foot nowhere near the brake.
Speeding along but not awake.

I don’t want your low-level hum.
Autotune, inflated drums,
forgettable…

Focused on the daily gnaw, and then given away.
Headphones allow these beats and progressions
to remain my own.

Not for the sake of repetition,
not worried about what you think,
my ears ring
and circling thoughts escape.

Lit Up

I rise and I fall,
so what.
My mind is a racetrack.
I want it all and I want it back,
so what.
I’ve been here before: flashbacks, retreat and starting over.
Not as a rule, just survival.
My mind takes off again.
And there is no plug, no light switch.
There is no way I want this as my routine again.
I gave up so much the last time I got out of the ward.
So what.

Mind peeling away the rinds and underneath I find that I am responsible for the output, and what goes in, and nothing more.

Haven

I must maintain freshness past my expiration date.
I must retaliate… when no one is looking.

There is my face, and protective gear to keep me safe.
Safe from myself.

I must give up the ghost.
I must walk away from shell shock and splatter.

This is but a taste, of a life, of love–of laughter.
This body, my home,
a tender heart that has not expired.