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

“You aren’t here anymore, but that doesn’t mean I’m alone. Even though it’s hard, I’m able to keep going with a smile, because of you… Thank you.”

When my light begins to fade,

And I cannot tell the difference

Between the edge of our Sea

And that rocky ledge

Where old things go

When they are called home.

In that half-light,

Where time splits open

And everything that once could fly

Embraces the finality

Of a perpetual slumber,

Know that when everything goes,

Nothing is diminished,

Nothing is extinguished,

Not a single part of my love

Will be dulled.

At the end, it remains.

It must remain, because it’s you.

I have no other reason,

And for no other reason,

Could my heart endure.

It’s you, it was always you,

And I promise, my sweetling,

We will always be,

Forever love.

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

“Pain is unavoidable, and sooner or later everyone reaches a breaking point. It’s okay that you’re broken, because being broken means you can be fixed.”

I am drawn to you,

Like starlight to black nights,

Or else the rough sea

To a sailors dreams.

If I am to continue,

My darling, I do so

From your spark

It has ignited the tinder,

Shaved from my chest,

Giving rise to a heat,

A roaring light.

You’ve gifted me the Sun,

And with it a simple hope,

That even though I am alone

I can find my own way home.

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

“I miss you, but that doesn’t mean I need you. I’m still worth something, even without you.”

You did not take anything

That I did not willingly give,

So I cannot, will not,

Place the blame on you.

I thought I was empty,

That nothing remained

Outside of tattered love

Where my heart used to be.

 

But I was wrong.

 

When nothing remains,

When all I can claim

Is the rocky sediment

Along the riverbeds

And sandy shores

We once called home,

I want you to know

That I walked away

Out of my own desires,

On my own two feet.

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

“Coloring in the spaces between the lines on my wrist, I have to admit, I’m a pretty shit artist.”

You were coloring in my lights,

Drenching a binary world

A pallet of contradictions.

Unbalanced, indiscriminate yellow,

Stoplights shaded evergreen,

And as your lips buzzed my name,

I felt the edges of a wave

That promised to dye

My timid October orange

Every variant of the red

Lurking in my veins.

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

August has arrived, and with it a more relaxed mood for my self reflections.

I was so caught up in the rush, I didn’t bother to think about it at all. I wanted to ride this wave, to live in the fast lane, to never lose the wind blowing through my hair. I wanted it all so badly…that I never noticed. Well, more like I refused to acknowledge the facts. The wind, this ride, our moment in time…I thought of it as flying, but from the word go, this was nothing more than falling. So, given enough time, I’m going to hit the ground. I know that, but maybe I don’t care. Maybe I just want to enjoy this ride for all it’s worth, and I’ll be satisfied with only this. Maybe I’m riding this fall with so much enthusiasm because I want to hit the Earth that much harder. Maybe I want that fall to be so brutal that, not only will it cripple, but perhaps it will kill…Yeah, I think that’s it. I’m not being ignorant of the consequences, but in fact I’m counting on them. I know you aren’t good for me, but I don’t care. I’ll take you, all of you, and let you take not only everything I have, but everything I could ever have. It’s all yours, and for the low, low price of a few moments of your time, and some memories to cling to in my final moments.

It’s the beginning of August, so the sun it setting earlier and earlier. It’s something anybody can observe, but for me it feels more personal. I can feel the days becoming shorter, but for the first time in my life I’m okay with this. I used to want summer to last forever, and every year I looked forward to the next, and for a fresh summer. But I’m okay with this. Everything has to end at some point. I’m okay with ending. I’ll enjoy this last summer, these last bit of fireworks. I’ll ride until everything is closed. I’ll enjoy this fall until I crash. And I’ll make sure that crash is hard enough to ensure I’ll never have to crash again. I don’t care if you hurt me anymore, because pain only matters if you are alive to feel it. I’ll be okay, I’ll escape the pain. So I’ll enjoy the ride, for all it’s worth, until my fall finally ends.

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

I’ve stretched out my soul to widen my shadow, the only part of me that seems to understand how much of a fool God must be for creating this bullshit.

The Summer flickers into the year with lingering regrets;

A medley of melted marshmallows and perfume laced bug sprays.

It’s not a storm like the Spring, raging in, forcing growth and change, no.

Summer stumbles with no direction, as if lost in all this sunlight,

As if the added hours of daytime and sweltering drafts have incited a lethargy

That takes a provenance in refuse cartilage of swollen anatomies.

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

“I exist as nothing but sin, which is why karma is my best friend; I deserve these, all of these…I have earned every last cut…” (part 4 of 5)

I want karma to see

Every mistake I carved

In my attempt

To reap forgiveness.

Are these lines

Repentance for the past

Or a reflection of me

And the tomorrow

I’ll never escape?