Hikers.

You strapped on your hiking boots and grabbed your expensive north face jacket.
You set out on a mission to climb this giant mountain, making so much racket.
You hacked and sawed at the towering trees on your path with a hatchet.
After an exhausting year you finally made it to the top
Can you tell me just one thing?
Was the view as breathtaking as you thought it would be?
Was your goal simply to plant your flag, carving your name in calligraphy?
Watching the mountain crumble under the weight of your pitiful soul, as if made of feathers
You slowly made your way down that narrow path you carved yourself.
And you watched as that mountain crumbled to ember.
That mountain that once stood tall and brave, ceased to exist no more.
Proud of the destruction you’ve created,
You stumbled off with not even a simple scratch.
After a staggering battle, it seems I’ve met my match.

Winter Wind.

The winter winds came with a fierce rage.
She has never seen them this angry before.
She fights against them as she treads through the thick snow.
Inhale. Exhale.
She has to get back before sundown
She picks up the speed
Inhale. Exhale.
Hands in her pockets and eyes fixed on the ground below her.
With wind snipping at her nose and snow stinging her cheeks, she keeps going.
Inhale. Exhale.
She forgot her coat at home, as she often does.
She can feel the temperature in her blood slowly begin to dissipate.
She ignores it, she keeps going.
Inhale. Exhale.
She’s shivering, she’s exhausted.
Her vision has never been great, but it seems worse today.
Impossible to see through the saturated haze
Inhale. Exhale.
The clouds hung, as if they were tired too.
Tired of dragging along frozen desperation.
She halted only for a moment, she promised herself.
Only to catch her breath.
Inhale. Exhale.
She sat in the snow
Her breathing steadied
She relaxed as she watched the carbon escape her mouth in a mist.
Inhale. Exhale.
Glancing at the footprints she left behind
She took her last breath.
Inhale. Exhale.

Artistic Abilities

I saw who you were
I fell in love with you anyway.
I tried and tried, with all my might.
But I can’t stop painting your red flags white

Barely Scratching The Surface

Talk to me
Complete and utter vulnerability
Tell me your insecurities
Strip to your bones
Clothe my soul with your impurity
Hold my hand
Watch your fear crumble on demand
Dig deep and discover your metaphorical contraband
Tell me,
How much pain can you withstand?
Have you felt it firsthand?
Look into my eyes and drown in them like quicksand.
We’re more than small conversation
Talk to me, I can understand.

Seasonal Depression

When I opened my mouth all the emotion of the seasons came spilling out. I was shaking like a leaf on a fall day begging to hold onto the branch of self control. One visit from the polar easterlies changed everything. Our world spun around the idea of perfectionism in windswept hyper-speed. The leaves fell and snow blanketed our souls with a vast weight. My frosted heart ached as if it’s running on low battery. You watched with a sly smile as I screamed in pain. The snow began to melt and the daffodils began to bloom. Begging for a second chance, wildflowers blossomed in the very cracks you created in my conscience. That summer love was lost again. And the crickets have arthritis.

What’s Going On?

I might tack on some blogish pages to this. Why not? We’re in quarantine, life is short and writing is fun. This is just something people have a hard time doing these days. During this time away from society I’ve realized a couple things. A couple hard questions I’ve had to ask myself and someday I hope to find the answer I’m looking for.
Ever so often I get into this state of mind where I believe life is fantastic. I have everything I could possibly need. And then I get to analyzing how I live my life now. How I mistreat the things I have. I’ll leave the water running when I brush my teeth (I brush my teeth for a long time) and that’s just one example. I’ll get my weekly screen time update and almost fall on my ass over how much time I spend on my phone. That’s time I’m completely disengaged in the world around me. Eight hours at work seems like a very long time but eight hours on my phone doesn’t seem all that bad? Odd.
I dream of a life with my own beautiful house, a couple kids and a few dogs running around. I dream of having my own green house (although I absolutely suck at taking care of plants) I just enjoy being around them. Wouldn’t it be nice if people actually had deep connections again? To live fifty years ago meant you’d send letters and talk all night through window screens. Progress a few years and you’d have your own private concert with boomboxes and record players. I will never be able to experience that beautiful time, but I can try my best to recreate it. First things first: surround yourself with people who view life somewhat the same as you. Differences are okay, healthy even. But there is a spectrum. I’m a firm believer that opposites attract in the sense of magnetism. But on the personality scale, not so much. Second things second. I know a lot of people out there rely heavily on routine. You can’t get out of that relationship because you don’t know what it’s like to be alone. You can’t move out because it would feel weird to sleep in a different house. You can’t travel because you don’t know where you’re going. But here’s the thing, getting stuck in a routine is the equivalent (I think) to being stuck in jail. You place those bars along your future and don’t even know it. Feeling just not right in your relationship but stay anyway? Placing bars so nobody else can show you what it’s really like to be in love. Feel uncomfortable moving out so you’re going to stay in your childhood bedroom forever? Placing bars on the experience of freedom and independence. Feel like you spend too much time on your phone? Plug in some earbuds, and find something to do instead. Listen to music and paint. Go outside and read, teach yourself cool yo-yo tricks. That’d called being carefree. So many things you could miss out on just by being stuck in that quick sand mindset.
One of the craziest lifestyle concepts I’ll never wrap my head around is the “hunker down” lifestyle. The 9-5 five days a week, living for the weekends, “omg how am I going to pay this bill” lifestyle. Doesn’t sound like a good life to me.
So here’s how it all ties together. I’ve realized I’m not in any way shape or form on the right track to getting my life together. I spend ungodly amounts of time on my phone. That’s time wasted. I spend nearly all my time around people who don’t truly know who I am and what I stand for because nobody cares to actually dig deep and have a conversation. They base your personality on the few encounters you have with them, mentally build this fake persona of you and it’s hard to escape that. It’s hard to show someone who you truly are, especially because lots of people aren’t comfortable talking face-to-face anymore. Sending memes and having the same conversation everyday is routine. And I hate routines. Tell me something I don’t know, captain. Talk to me about creatures you think are living on planets eons away or in the bottom of the ocean on our own planet earth. Talk to me about psychology and Religion. Where do you think the earth came from, honestly? How crazy is time and how days feel so long but they’re so short compared to the long stretch ahead of us. Life is too short to be stuck working for 60 or 70 years. Plan FAR ahead. Start now, and set goals for yourself. Change your life if you don’t like it. The future is completely and totally in your control.
And lastly, I’ll close with this (as every high school teacher said two minutes before the bell rang.) Life is so fragile, so fucking fragile. We have ONE SHOT AT THIS. So what are you doing with your life?

I went back and read this and none of it actually makes sense. It’s just my thoughts on internet paper, and I’m spending yet even more time on my phone to write this. But props to whoever, if anyone may be still reading this. You’re not part of the problem.

Peaks and Valleys

Mushrooms grow alongside the trails of every wooded path.
Rivers flow with a steady rhythm of love and lust.
The birds sing on the branches in the trees above
The sun sets slowly, basking the land with a milky haze of vibrant pinks and orange lace
Daffodils sway as the wind picks up its pace
It whirls and whistles, waltzing with Mother Nature’s grace
Close your eyes.
Clear the chalk on your imaginary itinerary
Tell me,
Can you feel the electricity?
The surging current of blood flowing through your arteries
The tingle in your fingertips?
In your toes?
Greet your woes with a warm smile
Remind yourself that it may be awhile
Until you feel free again

False Familiarity

Dripping in lace as she waited
The walls basked in candlelight
Two full glasses of merlot at the bedside
Record player resonating smooth jazz
She nervously waited a little longer
Her mind raced, her palms sweating
She thought quietly to herself
Afraid that if he was near he could somehow hear
She’s pacing now, which she often does out of nervousness
Her fidgeting fingers tumbling tirelessly
Is he okay? He was supposed to be home an hour ago
Phone calls went unanswered.
Snapchat’s have been few and far between, nothing of true conversation
Maybe work was running late?
He’ll be home soon. Patience, sweetheart.
She spent all day preparing for this.
She knew work has been stressful lately.
She wanted a romantic evening
Not for her, but for him
Always for him.
She hears a car pull into the drive.
She runs and jumps on the bed, ruffling the covers a bit
She smooths them quickly
She waits for the door to open.
A million and one thoughts run through her head.
When he steps through the door, he doesn’t crack a smile.
He meets her eyes once and quickly looks away.
“What’s all this?” He says
She gets up to hug him and say hello. As she always welcomes him home with a kiss
She smells it on him.
She meets his eyes, they’re dark and hollow
She smirks, grabs her jacket and throws it over her shoulder
Looks at him once over
Throws two fingers and walks out the door. Without uttering a word.
She loved him. But she will always love herself a little more.
She gets to her car
Turns the ignition
Rounds the corner
Pulls over
And she weeps.

ashes to dust

You know what they say
The eyes are a gateway to the soul
Looking in hers is a gateway to the galaxy
Much like Saturn, the rings around them tell a story
The baggage she can’t quite seem to escape
A whirling electromagnetic grave
Supermassive black hole of fate
Devouring and destroying everything in its wake
The Big Bang.
A beautiful, beautiful mistake.