Rest calls me
autopilot disobeys –
Mind heeds, but
locked in battle
with my insomnia;
neither make way
for my flickering consciousness
and exhausted body.
Sleep is an elusive luxury…
Lately.
Rest calls me
autopilot disobeys –
Mind heeds, but
locked in battle
with my insomnia;
neither make way
for my flickering consciousness
and exhausted body.
Sleep is an elusive luxury…
Lately.
Funny how
the people you’re born
unto;
The people you’re born and raised
with
are more stressful than
the almost-strangers you speak to in passing
each day…
Funny how some days
secret parts of me
occasionally wish
those strangers were
my family –
At least most of them
are always trying
to get to know me,
instead of all the time
assuming
they already do.
Can’t be my own person
by your perspective standards
I’m too weak, too naïve,
too unoriginal
to think for myself.
It’s only when I disagree with you
that I’m wrong,
such contradiction –
you disagree with who I am
and feel justified
in doing so…
When will we learn that
double standards
do not equate to
balance?
You are what
makes me happy…
You are my
chill during stormy weather,
moon to my high tides –
I’ll always be drawn to you.
You are
the antioxidant to
the free radicals
in my energy;
Explorer of the untamed wilderness
of my mind.
You’re the comfort
that calms the
creature
within my soul.
You are my
coffee at sunrise
and my
ice cream on rainy days –
You’re my evening wine;
My anytime music.
I got a headache
because I think too much,
and my braids too tight,
Sometimes I think I worry
about not worrying too much –
Stress about
whether I’m stressed out
or nah.
My mind moves so much its muscles are a little sore.
Evening, Ma’am, Sir.
Evening walks
to nowhere in particular
and everywhere I’m going.
Evening coffee,
evening meal…
Evening matinees awaken the sky,
as sun sets
horizon alight with gold and orange;
rose and wine and blue.
Evening – shadows.
Moon is rising
the wanes of Gibbous
in half…
Evening, crickets –
how melodic your trill.
Evening
is the middle between
[the] time to rest
and trying to be
still.
I fear
I’ve messed this all up –
This life thing,
It doesn’t feel like I’m doing it
quite right.
I’m always just…
Too
every bit of the wrong things,
too intense, too awkward;
too passionate, too aggressive.
Too full of words,
too not enough.
I don’t know how to fix it,
make it better…
is it only my own responsibility?
“Different” can be a lonely life…
It only hurts
when I think about it
too much.
Instead of thinking too hard, I just let my wonder
wander.
It’s only easier
because I’ve always had trouble believing
my thoughts
could cause me pain.
With just a simple thought,
the firing of a synapse,
the striking of nerves,
the launching of cells,
power emerges.
The power to create –
willed
with only an unspoken command…
rawness and rarity.
The epitome of true talent;
How beautiful the mind is
that even subconsciousness
affects reality.
The line spacing in the editor on the WP mobile app is trash. Here’s a workaround:
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Save and then copy + paste into the editor on mobile – tweak, preview, publish, and voila! Line spacing magic.
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