Compromised Focus

Screaming in basements to avoid being heard,

Typing out thoughts so patience doesn’t have to be tested,

It’s all become so routine;

Figuring out how to make the loudest noise yet remain concealed

In an absent-minded and loud world.

Exhausted at the resonance of criticism,

Flattened by the glare of chosen ignorance,

My disdain for sleep is tested by my stronger desire to avoid people.

While my body will be in far worse pain if I lay down uselessly,

It’s better than the pain of being surrounded by people

whose interactions feel like they’re done out of duty rather than hospitality.

Why believe you’re in a group when the people make you feel lonely?

Why sit next to someone who seems as though they’re deaf to your voice only?

I’m confused as to what relationships are actually supposed to do,

Especially since people seem to favor conversations on screens involving icons and abbreviations,

Rather than human engagement and sound.

Why should I see you in person when I can see you just fine on my phone screen?

Don’t waste your touch You won’t feel anything



Serial Boldness

Habitually hammering away at principles and morals,

Both learned and adopted,

And why not?

Isn’t internal conflict,

The best and most fulfilling type?

I used to believe that if you wanted peace,

You needed to prepare for war;

But our world has been bathed too many times over in blood and gore.

Am I forgetting what has happened or just lying?

Have I finally cracked or just crying?

In the heat of the moment,

At the highest peak of rock bottom;

My ashes have been prepared for storage.

The only thing I’m not guilty of is being innocent.

Fighting ghosts like when Wanderlei knocked out Quinton,

Punch drunk going pound for pound with the wind.

I’m done being down by law,

And I’m up and out of the dump.

I recognize the mess I made,

And I’ll never be proud of it;

But I’m determined to never again,

Let the past what ultimately defines both my present and future.


The Facts

The fact is, life can be both as difficult or wonderful as we make it.

The fact is, illness slows you down but it doesn’t stop you.

The fact is, feeling sorry for yourself isn’t very beneficial.

The fact is, I don’t know all the facts and don’t have a desire to.

I could yell in anger, groan in pain and fear, smile in some supposed state of joy;

But what difference does it make if it’s fake?

Nothing but an illusion,

A mask of delusion.

War has been going on all the time as of late,

Between change and the enemy of stagnant self-hate.

A flurry of blame shifting,

Nothing is more sickening.

Responsibilities put aside temporarily,

Lies of failure infiltrate in.

Pestilential in nature,

But victory is a possibility.

It may be hard to see,

But I refuse to be my own worst enemy.

G-d, as always, I need your help but it seems to be in a different way than ever before.

And I’m sorry that the main reason it has felt like you haven’t been around,

Is because I wouldn’t let you in.

Or ran away scared,

Feeling unworthy.

The fact is, while you’ve always called me son

I’m just starting to learn what that means.


“See how great a love the Father has bestowed on us, that we would be calledchildren of God; and such we are. For this reason the world does not know us, because it did not know Him. Beloved, now we are children of God, and it has not appeared as yet what we will be. We know that when He appears, we will be like Him, because we willsee Him just as He is. And everyone who has this hope fixed on Him purifies himself, just as He is pure.” 1 John 3:1-3 NASB