Part 3 of 3

We have been declared mentally insane

As we seek neither love nor fame

But rather the truth to see.

And yet we have been imprisoned by the blind

Who prevent us from being free

Drunken Stargazing

I was hoping I’d find you here

Throwing back a gallon of beer

Sitting upon the shingles,

Housed by the star speckled sky

My chest burned alight

With a coil of emotions—

Pity,

Heartache,

Pity—

Fear

I don’t quite remember when

You began transferring your beer,

Pouring cans into milk jugs

As you grew out your hair

—You had also lost ten pounds

Sweated out under the weight

Of your circumstantial life

I beg of you,

Cry your troubles into my shirt

I’ll adorn myself with your tears,

Your alcoholic perfume,

Your subtle guise,

And the brunt

Of your star-misted eyes

I return to this Lars Norén poem. It is the story of every love, the beauty in the contradictions of its ending (my translation not quite literal)

It’s going to be a terrible time, my love

I’m still here

Let me sleep with you

Lie with you

Convince you

even though we’ll vanish

I sit down, mind filled with swirling thoughts, trying to regain the sense of calmness. I breathe softly as I’ve finally settled, quickly finding myself searching ways for improvement. I remind myself that no corner of me can be left ignored while doing so. Before I know it, evaluation begets validation, and I’m going off into how terrible and worthless I am. When I get to my feet again, only then do I realize how much time I’ve spent so focused on my faults, and that I’ve degraded myself down to dust without any recognition for what I had learned from them.

E.G. // Inevitable criticality

Too often I find myself going out of my way to please those around me… many who do not and will not give a damn about me.

- E.G.

Why is it that I write my best when I’m at my worst?

It’s unfair how these beautiful thoughts arise from the ashes of my happiness.

E.G.

i’ve got hands

attached to strings

watch me dance

can’t make me sing

E.G. // a song I’m writing

broken hearts

shattered glass

weigh the same

in bloodied hands.

-E.G. // a song I’m working on

Thank you for caring.

Too often we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring, all of which have the potential to turn a life around.

Leo Buscaglia

ONE GOOD THING

the ceiling fan just lives there
i touch your back
while the sun does
and later on the empty bus home
roll off the seat when we corner too fast

and stay on the floor
for a moment thinking
one good thing
about being alive
is the view

CRISPIN BEST

i am falling

for you,

maybe

and it’s this feeling i chase-

adrenaline

exhilration

as i fall through the sky

but i 

die,

in the end 

I’m not entirely sure where I lost myself.

I abandoned my old self,

But my own ghost still haunted me.

I was the type of person,

To hold onto things too tight.

I always thought holding on,

Was worth the pain it takes.

In loosing things, I’d lose apart of me too.

I would become someone, my heart no longer knew.

Striving to find my way, I had nothing left.

Just Broken pieces that I tried to mend.

My biggest mistake was losing myself, to love you.

Come to think of it,

I’m not entirely sure I ever had myself.

-RB