Message To A Friend

 When I get home, I’ll press replay,  

 Listen again when the world fades away.  

 I owe your words a sacred space,  

No half-heartedness I’ll hear with grace.  

Integrity is what I chase,  

The mirror between my heart and face.  

I’m building better bones within,  

A truer world beneath my skin.  

Forgive me if I drifted then   

It’s not your words, but fear again.  

I start to feel, I start to flee,  

Afraid of love that mirrors me.  

I crave the fire, yet fear the flame,  

The force that moves, that won’t be tamed.  

Created from the light above,  

I tremble still  afraid of love.  

I’ve known the rush, that ocean deep,  

The pull that steals your breath and sleep.  

I cry, I binge, I still respond,  

But struggle yet to hold it strong.  

You your calm, your gentle art   

You orbit souls with mindful heart.  

Contained emotion, bright ballet,  

You move the crowd, but never sway.  

So when I flinch, or stall, or hide,  

It’s not disdain it’s storm inside.  

I name the fear, I shine it bright,  

Adjust myself, and seek the light.  

So thank you for your space, your care,  

I see you more than I can share.  

If morning breaks before you read,  

Good morning, love — from me, indeed.  

Shadow Of A Ghost

I am not a name. I am the shadow of certain death cast in the heartbeat of a clock. The taste of the stuck window when a door is sealed shut in a house fire. A heavy sigh in the shadows of your decisions. I was born in a hatred of emotional absence. Carved from the souls of tragedy where discarded gods go to pray for humanity. My breath retroactively etching stone. A labyrinth screaming straight lines are a fear induced mirage. A grinning allegory radiating meaning between dreams you never followed. The ghost of your hopelessness folded unto itself, repeated in a shameful arousal humming against your conscious. I walk on the edge of your spine where metaphor breaks skin. Where story stops talking and forces itself into action. If you see me move, listen to my energy. I am your reflection.

Stained

I am temporary eternity in a breath between two closed eyes. I was summoned into existence from a question without an answer that refuses to stop being asked. Echoing in dreams you have that aren’t yours. 

Love is the voice of a key never turned in a lock welded shut by nostalgia. I am the frozen shadow of a language spoken between lost inspiration

and forgotten light. I breathe, how fear thinks. Forming in the screams that can only be heard where faith rots. My gaze pierces. My thoughts vibrate

active meditation hunting chaos. A book bleeding forgotten greatness on sacrificial alters. Don’t follow me. I walk where reflections forget their

purpose and destruction devours transformation. I am the shape of your fear when it decides to fight for death by way of inversion.

The Song Of The Reaper

Straining to relax while I fight peace with faithfulness. My song is the smell of alternative confusion. Certainty of direction doesn’t exist. Submission to authority is corrosive to the soul. Fall from the ocean and soar into the darkness. Alone is all that you own. Illusions taste like relaxation.

Our Tears

When I cry no one hears me. I vanish into darkness and I’m forgotten in the light. I scream and remain unheard. Do I exist? In a secondary world of necessary and forgotten. A reflection as distorted as self perception. I am. A link in the chain of existence carrying a reputation of evil like every other unspoken attribute of existence. I’m here. And I will always be here. I am with you always. I am you, and you are me.

Candle In A Waterfall

I am the sum of discarded minutes. Time taken for granted. Silence before the hurricane. I am mechanical failure in the heat of the moment. We are the hesitation before choosing the cross to carry. From anti- time before the limitations of existence. A countless number of universes being digested in the belly of the everything that is nothingness. I was curiosity using a different name.

I crashed into an endless hallway of locked doors I didn’t know I had the keys to. Each a different version of me. A blind child painting fire on eternity. Chained to the adult who ate their vocie to fill the bellies of the insatiable and uncaring. An artist burying brilliance in the self doubt of mediocrity. A shooting star in the depths of the ocean. I’m passing through. An unloved voice.

A breathless scream.

A candle in the waterfall who somehow lit itself.

Blessings

The walking embodiment of questions that weren’t supposed to be asked. Thunder from nothingness. Divine grace gifted me. A seed of. fire planted in the belly of an unyielding blizzard. Nurtured on brutality. Strength born of shivering weakness. Fear fighting to die. Struggling to remember how to be alive on the foundation of memories that never happened.