Posted in My life - Written by God, produced by 21st Century middle America, and lived by me, myself, and I., Uncategorized

The majority of my hope lies with other people, but I am learning to save a least a sliver for myself.

I haven’t lived this life only to borrow other people’s things; their smiles and handshakes and promises. I’m building myself back up, or maybe up for the first time, or maybe I’m not building anything and I’m just determined not to fall any further. A lack of visible progress is discouraging, but footprints made on any beach get washed away by the Moon, so don’t worry so much kid. Things aren’t always going to work out, things won’t always turn out fine, but that’s not a good reason to worry. It’s all part of a journey, and it’s all your own, so breathe it in, feel the rush of the bumpy ride down, and remember no matter how deep a hole may seem the darkness is never the only thing. Being brave isn’t about willing away the fear – it’s about facing that fear, and maybe asking for help when you need it.

Posted in My life - Written by God, produced by 21st Century middle America, and lived by me, myself, and I., Uncategorized

My feelings are still a mess of regrets and promises I made to myself on my lowest days…but they are the only promises I have left.

“It was through your eyes that I was able to find out what this world really is. It was so big..to big for you…to cruel and cunning, to quick and papery, to soiled and full of sell outs…it was all to much of everything, but it was the same for me. It was the same for you, and me, and everyone else, right? We all felt it, and we all drowned in those feelings of despair. Hope was just a pretty word, something to dream about until dreams became another crude mirror of this reality… But we weren’t alone…never alone…I had you, and you had me, and we had a planet full of humanity to bury ourselves in. I wanted to run away at every turn, I really did. I wanted to find the strength to get up and sprint off towards you, to follow you, to be with you, no matter what that meant. I cried until my tears dried up, screamed until I could only whisper my regrets, punished myself over and over and over so I could feel even slightly closer to you, to the level you must have been on, that lowest of lows…I lived in that hole, and I let it choke me until I was on par with you. I did all of that, but you never asked. I gave it to you like it was some sort of gift, my fall from grace. How disgusting…how small of a person I must be to think you would want that from anybody. Still…I still want you to see me…I still want to see what you could have become, if only I could have found a way to make you see me…I could have changed everything, saved everyone, made the right choices every time a fork in the road appeared. I could have been that, all of that, for you…I lived for you…I still live for you…so I can’t stop seeing this world for you, because you need me…to see this world through to another ending, you need me…I wish you could see me…I wish you could trade places, to walk this world on your own two feet, seeing the things I’m seeing through your eyes…I don’t want to walk your path if you aren’t on it…If I can only see your world but not see you…If you can only see your world and never see me…I don’t want to keep walking without you…”

Posted in My life - Written by God, produced by 21st Century middle America, and lived by me, myself, and I., Poetry, Uncategorized

I know what fear tastes like, how it sinks into your soul and creates…dark, so much darkness that everything is a shadow or unlit alley, and I can’t even run because I have no idea if I’m running away from the danger or getting closer to it.

Red wine is what comes to mind

When I think of how you poison me.

It’s slow, delicate and good in small doses

But I’m overwhelmed and drowning in your sea.

 

You are bitter to some, smooth to others

It just depends on who you ask

To me, you are nothing more than an addiction;

I’m always looking for the next glass.   

 

You don’t rob me of my senses, but slowly

You work your way into my veins.

I’m not sure when you tipped the scales

And managed to drive my blood insane.

 

You turn me vulgar, you turn me sweet,

But of course those are just my lies.

I want you to be the real cause

But more likely that’s how I am inside.

 

You are my muse, the perfect drug;

Classy but able to break my will

So be my escape, my fast getaway,

Please, pour enough for the kill…

Posted in My life - Written by God, produced by 21st Century middle America, and lived by me, myself, and I., Uncategorized

I think most people know this about me already, but I’m really, REALLY not good at this whole “living” thing.

It wasn’t an active process, just background noise, the gears turning and keeping me moving forward. One step, 2 steps, a stumble over a crack in this ancient cement driveway, a crack I’ve known since I was 5 years old, a crack I’ve avoided a 1000 times during games of tag, basketball, hopscotch. A crack that is somehow just now entering my consciousness, demanding to be seen, to be felt, demanding that I, at this very moment, experience a literal fall alongside my mental collapse. And that, my friends, is when I realized the truth; even if I’d spent an entire lifetime in one place, I never really knew anything at all before he came crashing into me…

Posted in My life - Written by God, produced by 21st Century middle America, and lived by me, myself, and I., Uncategorized

It’s embarrassing to have to turn down every potential swimming adventure because you don’t want to ruin the fun when they see all those scars, those mistakes you obviously haven’t learned a damn thing from..

I’ve buried myself in the Baltic, burned into my skin this rough salt water. My shipyards left barren, the lighthouse now a beacon for shadows and shame. No bravery lives here. My dreams were left behind, so nothing but my terror remains, feeding off the eerie winds that sound during all seasons. These waves carry nothing to my shore’s; they only leech light during those rare sunny days, retreating into a blue so deep it’s like watching the Moon eclipse the sun. That blue is a darkness to numb my senses and dull this faint heart. I weep in the face of that brine, but I haven’t moved. I’ve made my home here, in this sea, far away from anything I could mistake as a reason to forgive.

Posted in Music Mondays, My life - Written by God, produced by 21st Century middle America, and lived by me, myself, and I., The Modern Classics

Music Mondays: The Sonder Bombs

Okay, so this weeks featured artist is a little different from other artists I’ve shared in that I only discovered this band a little over 5 days ago. The Sonder Bombs are a local band (I live in NE Ohio and they are from Cleveland) that I heard while listening to an NPR segment on Uke Punk music. I had no idea what Uke Puke was, but I love Ukulele, and I love Punk, so I was curious enough to check it out, and I have to say it was the best decision I have made in the past year.

The sound is something familiar, but it molds so many of my favorite sounds that I’ve never thought about mixing that it creates a unique blend I can’t get enough of. I must have listened to this track, Switzerland, a few dozen times over the holiday weekend and it makes me feel…happy.

Hopeful.

At home.

I’ve never been one to go see bands play live, but this is a local band trying to make a name for themselves, and I want to see them succeed, so I plan on seeing them live in their next couple of shows. Below is a link to there bandcamp, which has their next shows listed. I strongly encourage everyone to listen to this song, share this post if you enjoyed it, and spread the word about this amazing band.

https://thesonderbombs.bandcamp.com/

Posted in My life - Written by God, produced by 21st Century middle America, and lived by me, myself, and I., Uncategorized

I only wanted to call to say that I’m sorry, but I didn’t know what I’m supposed to be sorry for, and so I found myself saying goodbye before we ever had the chance to talk.

Have you ever found yourself leaning back in a chair so far that you fear you might just fall backwards and hit your head? Why lean so far back? Why keep pushing and pushing until you reach that ultimate tipping point, where gravity takes hold of you and forces you to accept physics as a thing, to realize you can only go so far backwards before you reach the ground? Of course this is simply a metaphor, a cheap attempt to try and explain to myself why I think I am failing. I want to think I was placed upon some great throne, a chair made of pure gold with jewels and rubies and other super valuable stones set in the back and sides and arm rests. Isn’t that how all humans are though? Don’t we all want to think that our lives are something more than mere coincidence? We want to think we are the masters of our fates, that we surely must be placed on this Earth for something more than just…just this, right? I’m not sure I ever was just like other people. I never felt okay with just..existing. Yet, I also didn’t feel worth the effort, worth striving to become something more. I think I was born on a simple wooden chair, and like an idiot true to nature, I rocked that chair back and forth until I reached a tipping point. Now, I could have fallen forward, right? Fallen where I could see the ground, fallen where I could put my hands out in front of me and catch myself before I hit, fallen where I could have saved myself and gotten back up, looked at my little broken chair, and just moved on, find another one, and start all over. So why did I let my final motion be backwards? Why did I take that final push to force me into a fall I couldn’t see, couldn’t save myself from?

~Because, when you know something is going to hurt, it is a cowards instinct to look away~