Grievances & Troubles

I’m angry that I may have to leave the place I occasionally hate,

Only to return to places I’ve tried to forget or at least have tried to not romanticize mentally;

It’s always easy to romanticize that which you once didn’t enjoy,

When something that once was a source of joy & sweetness turns bitter.

I don’t mind being a ghost,

I can even accept being forgotten occasionally;

But I don’t want to be haunted by my past,

And I’m sick of it accomplishing that by trying to convince me that my past will define my future.

I know it will have an effect, but it’s not set in stone.

The future is only a step away

while the past is more of a stones throw;

Like a shattering mirror,

Compared to an unlocked door

not yet to be opened.

Chest pains & dried blood.

Ink stains & torn pages.

While saying goodbye may be difficult,

Considering the bitterness a “hello” can contain;

Goodbye’s are like being asked to carry in groceries,

Rather than carrying a full chest freezer by yourself.

I’m not saying that being with people is bad,

But I’ll never say it’s always good.


Dismissal of Notice

Suddenly yet silently, I leave.

In hopes that no one and nothing will notice,

Yet silence can be subjective in times of departure.

Irritation & hate are easy for me to convey,

Yet joy & sadness feel like languages long forgotten;

There are moments I remember that I wish were forgotten,

And memories so destroyed that I wonder if bits of my life really happened.

I don’t see the logic behind a fear to quit,

When we’re so quick to criticize if someone has considered never wanting to commit.

You do need “others” in your life,

But don’t forget you need yourself too;

Prioritize being aware of others,

But be self-aware and present at all times.

It’s a constant difficulty to be entirely present,

In one place at a time.

But then again,

If you weren’t aware all along;

My departure probably still seems recent.



I feel like the easiest thing to be scared of is feelings,

So might I just say;

I’m frightened!

I’m terribly frightened, that’s how I feel

and this fright is inspired by my feelings.


this is exactly why,

Feelings occasionally; lately, more often than not

feel rather stupid.

This whole idea of being numb pretty dumb,

So then what am I supposed to do?

I’m disgusted with feeling nothing,

And scared as I’ll ever be to feel something.

Typing out frustrations, exaggerations, aggravations, and all the ‘ations in between & before;

All for an audience of too many & too little

for friends and foes alike.

For the fools and intelligent,

For the claimed and the disowned;

For the family & for those best forgotten.

Yet again… I feel

What is the point?

Is it to keep trudging along until my expiration date,

Whether I expire by abandoning my identity altogether to supposedly start anew;

Or let nature take its course and return to dust mixed with dew.

In conclusion – I feel so damn much, that I’m unsure how I feel at all.


Cut Hands & Restless Feet

Watching from a distance,

Only to end up overwhelmed

once I’m allowed to look closely;

It’s been so long since you’ve paid attention to what you look like,

You don’t even recognize your own reflection.

Walking away is the easiest path to cowardice,

But what cowardice is there in admitting you have nothing to offer?

Or at least nothing more?

When a beggar shakes his two coined cup at you,

And angrily criticizes you or belligerently whines because you didn’t add to it,

Isn’t the stupidest irony the fact that if you showed them your empty wallet;

They wouldn’t say thank you for being honest,

They’d demand you give them the wallet.

Finding cuts only because of noticing blood on your clothes,

Bruises discovered because limbs hurt more than normal;

Forget just my face,

I don’t even know my own body anymore.

I’m as removed from myself,

As I am within;

And at the current moment,

I don’t know if I feel that is something I should fix.

There are certain challenges that come with this state of being,

But that’s why it seems almost normal.

My eyes are open yet I cannot see,

I have much to say but no desire to speak.

I’ve reached what I know to be my end.


To the Valley

For as long as I can remember,

The Valley represented the shadows reigning over my life;

The infamous shadow of death cloaked over my shoulders & head.

But is the mountaintop really where life is,

Or is it the point I fall from to my impending end?

Slowing down has always seemed nearly impossible,

But every time I’ve tried;

It feels so nice,

Yet so strange and guilt ridden.

Why am I feeling guilty & unto whom aside from myself?

Am I simply guilty of lying?

Lying that I’m in favor of change,

when possibly the most important change I can make personally is exactly what I fear?

When the change & decision to slow down in life as much as reasonably possible,

Is the exact change I avoid even considering?

I enjoy nature thoroughly,

But the mountains haven’t necessarily always been a welcome destination.

Yet I’ve lived a “mountaintop” existence most of my life,

it seems at least,

Relying upon busyness & adrenaline to feel most alive.

Change takes time,

Something I often feel I don’t have enough of.

But I’m beginning to wonder,

Is it that I don’t have time or that I need to use the time I’ve been given

better than I have in the past?

Muscles tight, eyes heavy, and body overall drained;

I’m going to sit a while.

Partly because I have no energy to go anywhere,

But also because I’m unsure of where to go.