16 Sep 2016
I remember exhaling my last breath
as time started to slow around me.
Sounds dimmed leaving a sharp whistle,
vision narrowed to a single bright light,
and my limbs became dull and heavy.
Empathy was the next to leave,
as I stopped caring for anything else.
Awareness of the world would soon follow,
making me lethargic and disinterested in
what others thought or did or felt.
The boredom and disconnectedness were too much,
but it was too late to do anything about it.
My bed had been made, my own wish granted,
and now I had an eternity to marvel over
the similarities between death and immortality.
14 Sep 2016
I leave for new lands,
new hopes, new friends!
I leave in search of excitement
and adventure that never ends.
Having lived and loved
in this city of mine,
I’ve grown so much,
but it’s finally time.
My eleventh year ends soon,
and with it I too shall go
to the mountains of rock and honey dew
with lush green valleys below.
Westward and upward,
as the Sun I too shall rise.
This place has been like life to me
but it will not be my demise.
10 Sep 2016
The songs of my childhood were playful and sweet,
with poetry and melody that I knew complete.
The songs of my youth were ponderous and slow,
as I discovered depths in places I thought shallow.
The songs of romance were frenzied and erratic,
much like love itself that ravaged chaotic.
The songs of loneliness were tearful but true,
comforting in the knowledge that others felt it too.
The songs of sacrifice were resolute and tragic,
and always pushed me to give it all for my magic.
The songs of death were sombre and serene,
they painted a quiet picture of a peaceful scene.
The songs of hope are my favorite of all,
they inspire and encourage, enchant and enthrall.
A song is all it takes to relive moods and memories,
they mark events and eras and weave each our histories.
I’m glad to have had these songs in my life:
without them it would’ve been a meaningless strife.
07 Sep 2016
“Can you breathe?” the man said.
“Yes, I think so,” I replied.
“You’re okay, it’s gonna be alright.”
He made my panic subside.
Once back on land, I realized
the man was me, inside my mind.
In the moment when I was almost lost
I found calmness of the warmest kind.
Trusting my capable instincts
is a gift of the highest order.
I trust my man will resurface
at every perilous border.
21 Jul 2016
How does one deal with one’s own inadequacy?
With true lack of merit, of talent, of acuity?
What do you do when it is shown plainly to you
that you’re not worth anything of real value?
How do you feel when even after enough chances
you’ve consistently failed at making advances?
It’s clear that life is not being unfair here:
you genuinely suck in every possible sphere.
So just shut up and accept that you’ll never win,
never feel soaring success or happiness within.
What you’re best at is being a loser by far.
You live in a studio, can’t even drive a car.
You yell at friends and wallow in self-pity.
You reek of sadness, and you’re not even pretty.
It’s not the universe, destiny, karma or fate
that stops you from finishing even one poem straight.
It’s all you, my friend, it always has been.
The awkwardness, stupidity, amentia and cringe.
So just stop trying to find an answer or excuse
for why you’re being treated like repulsive refuse.
It’s because you deserve it, you really do.
And that’s all there is to it, so now we’re through.