My Ashes

Reinvention of ones self;

A concept that sounds grand,

& yet can be so necessary

that it ends up being underwhelming.

It’s as if a time of change,

As something that is constantly avoided like the plague by some;

Is the most revered & hated time of a life all at once,

While also the one that often offers endlessly limited options.

Confusion is expected but all the same frustrating.

Possibilities or options taking form in a time of change,

Must often be something of our own creation;

We are given the power to choose to intentionally change,

And not just settle for an impending result

but rather allowed to participate in securing the best results.

If only the sometimes cultural as well generational escapist,

known as Effort,

Wouldn’t be so often found to be MIA or in a complete state of lack.

As I aim to slow down,

That I may sustain myself for the days & phases to come;

I realize that by slowing down,

I’m actually allowed to somehow move faster.

It’s only when I run the marathon,

rather than pacing,

That I find myself incapacitated & left with nothing.

But for now I will allow myself a time of stillness,

Not inactivity per se;

Just a needed release of control,

& reminder of my true nature as a finite & limited being.


8 & 1-Half: Conscious Streams

I’m ready to not go,

“when do you leave again?”

The question doesn’t irk me,


The only occasional irritation is that of its apologetic nature that its often asked in.

The amusing, while also irritating, aspect of it is when whining follows.

I’ve actually needed more alone time in this process than I expected,

I even felt guilty initially.

The guilt is pretty much wearing off,

But it still tries to get ahold on me.

Don’t long for me as though I’m a possession you window shop for,

I bid you all.

If you’re going to “miss me”,

Let those exact words miss my ear drums.

You know how to find me,

Sometimes it’s a practice of timing;

It could also be determined by my availability both circumstantial & otherwise.

This isn’t just a physical move,

Moving time has come on more levels than one.


I Won’t be Around

I miss missing you, I used to think distance was a curse; But now I love how far you are from me. The distance you are from me though, Is relative when considering how far out of reality you live. If you aren’t blind, It’s a wonder if you’re eyes even exist. Delusion is your middle name. Illusions are all you seek in relationships, But unfortunately it isn’t all you’re offered. I don’t have time to name you, Just the way you forgot I ever came around; Thankfully I didn’t know how to be present when it all came down. But when it blew up, Like gas to a book of fiery matches, It was both obvious & vague how you wanted things to be. Different than my usual routine, I’m walking forward instead of running away. Some thought I had signed up for a marathon, But I quickly took off my shoes & sat down. My calloused feet are becoming soft again, And the blisters bleeding aren’t even the worst experience with how I feel. I used to beg for people to forget me, Then I found they did it perfectly well on their own. I used to be grateful for this discovery, And then suddenly; As sudden as a change in weather, I started caring & it hurt a bit to swallow this glass shard of a pill. I wish I had more to say, But that’s how it’s been these days. My mind will race with the youthfulness found in a pack of stallions, Charging forward amidst passion & surpassing logic quite often; And then the audience is rendered deficient in attention, And suddenly the wall is proven to be solid when my bloodied mug recovers from the most recent collision. ——————————————————————