Everything will be alright everything that you are whispers these ribbons of truth to secure me suspended safely above fear Everything will be alright every soft exhale assures me a hum of energy that emanates through your piercing gaze Everything will be alright everything that I am believes you when you quell my trembling with one firm embrace Everything will be alright finally I have found my rest this soft feather bed of emotion the love that I feel for you
Flimsy wings of powder and dust sputter on in relentless motion concentric circles around soft light cracked compass of conviction Artificial glowing eyes multiply the moon's mercy is obscured behind quicksilver reflections made up of false promises Caught in an orbit of friendly flame careening toward the untrimmed wick frail flight forfeited in tongues of fire beguiling illusion of cool lunar illumination
Thick silence between raindrops the empty ache inside a soul starts to feel like hunger pangs the dry crack of patched lips after a long drought The body learns to numb sensations that have so long stayed untended like a constant shrill sound that will eventually fade into the background pain can for a while be forgotten Soft cascade into feeling nothing is suddenly interrupted with the spring a stirring starts to awaken old memories the restless internal insistence to return to the whispering woods
My soul has stood silent for days stunned back into hibernation by the sudden loss of something inside that I didn't know could be stripped away I've fallen to my knees deep within myself staring blankly at hands that must be mine unable to identify with this vacant vessel that seems to have changed while I wasn't watching Everything is the same, yet jarringly different a small, swift tectonic shift of self, shattering the distorted funhouse mirror of my perspective left standing transfixed by all the sparkling pieces Too tired to try collecting every tiny shard worse than empty, unable to be filled up again maybe I'll just stay suspended here in this slow, gawking numbness for now
Reality cannot hold a candle to ever glistening memory bearing witness to the slow waning of a soul succumbing to the burden of time Trying to linger in flames long extinguished rather than stand with purple fingers in the present the clumsy grasping at long cherished delusion can still feel better than accepting all is lost
Why am I still contemplating creative new ways to cause myself pain? how is it that all of these years have not touched this yearning? Can it really be a mere illusion the way these thoughts light me up inside? am I meant to simply be grateful for memories and images that will never be made manifest again? Maybe the meaning is the love itself made not to be reciprocated, but to remind me that I am capable of genuine unconditional devotion that the liquid depths of my soul still exist All intention is lost in the static of raw emotion what do I really expect for the outcome of reaching out? afraid I'll end up losing this thunderclap of hope that still crashes upon me from time to time The electric current of sudden signs that make my heart start cracking open with the swelling ache of undying affection that smarts and soothes simultaneously I shudder to think what would be left if I lost this last refuge of lingering longing the safe harbor I've held onto of precious pain that is sweeter than any prayer
Serenity resides beside the seashore beneath the salty breath of the ocean the rhythmic humming of the heavy tide reminds me to breathe deeply The liquid lungs of this sacred planet the dark, watery womb of all life releasing oxygen into the atmosphere while it sways against the weight of the moon The crashing exhale of massive waves chases away all fears of letting go hypnotized by the back and forth of forces far greater than I The awe-inspiring grandeur of the undulating sea brings a deep sense of peace I've been holding my breath
There is still beauty that pushes through the tiny cracks in hard concrete paths the sun still hangs glorious behind the gentle clouds passing by unrushed above the congested cacophony of highway All this light pollution cannot obliterate every star behind our protective veil of atmosphere this tender blue sphere still swirls through space defying the empty vacuum with precious life despite a history of catastrophic cataclysms It's better to keep breathing for something small than to be choked by the bitter absence of all that I once believed to be possible better to attempt to rise to the challenge of finding small pockets of pleasure in pain Sometimes I think my soul is crushed and given back to the cool soil so that I can be grounded once again in simplicity and experience the soft energy of starting over with fresh tiny tendrils of humble roots
The blank page is a practice
of reaching deep within
to see what lies in the shadows
behind your heart, suspended
on the other side of silence
Some days you'll find it flooded
a pressure valve in need of release
other days a smooth wall with no seams
a concrete caste that's settled over everything
impenetrable, cold, and cruel cocoon
Some days writing is as easy
as stepping into the stream
of liquid emotion flowing freely
tracing the contours and shadows
of an aching that appears in living color
Some days it takes a chisel
to search for cracks in thick cement
an uncomfortable effort to uncover
the clumsy, crude impressions
of a crippled and cringing unconscious
Unprompted outpourings of an overflowing heart
contrasted with a stiffness that contracts the soul
unable to predict which familiar state awaits me
as I sit down dutifully to endure
whoever I am today
I've never mastered the mercy of letting something die fear compels me to keep a cold corpse animated with artificial light Clinging to a casket ensures I won't ever come to learn what else life has to offer but I feel too unworthy to ask for anything more There is no energy left inside for seeking rising suns settling for a soft hand to hold as the darkness of night descends seems all I can manage Still that hot ember inside remains more and more often sparking into flame threatening to devour any illusion I may choose to cling to for small comfort whipped up by the wind of all that's ingenuine Searching for deeper answers beneath the one that keeps surfacing unable to decide my own suffering a life spent floating restlessly down-river when will the ocean finally come?
Protect the Innocent 