Inhale,
Inhale;
You wonder when you get to exhale,
Because every time that you try,
You fall;
The sky goes black
And the walls turn back,
To flee;
The nightmares,
From which you are consumed,
Have resumed to their primal
Hunting instincts;
Don’t forget to exhale;
Don’t forget to exhale;
Don’t let the sky turn black;
Don’t bring that period back;
You are living proof
That it is possible to any length,
To feel fragile,
While embracing strength;
I may not be sure
Just how to go about it,
But I know that I always find
Another way around it;
I’ll put the pressure on
Before the question pulls me under-
I’ll refuse to let the lightning strike,
And welcome in the thunder;
Beings of intelligence
Of all we think we know-
Even before we learn,
Even before we grow,
We are experts;
Nothing short of confidence
Nothing short of tall strides,
But we struggle with acceptance-
Of what we lack,
Of what we hide;
And we all hide the fact,
Or deny the fact,
That we really know nothing
At all,
For in the vast scheme
Of the universe,
We are an overstatement
Of small;
Maybe it’s not a perfect life
That we are after;
It’s the want for
The feeling of being problem-free
That lures us,
That deceives us towards
Toxic thoughts;
And all the while,
Happiness is lingering near,
His hands in pockets,
Kicking his foot softly into the dirt,
Wondering if all that shines around him
Will ever be recognized as
The kind of luxury
That we should be chasing;
We breathe
We step, or roll,
We speak,
But inside we all
struggle with
Everything we
Try to control-
The breakdowns,
The losses,
The pain-
All accumulate to something;
Our worth?
Too much to explain;
So much to retain;
No, it’s more
Than contributing;
We all need lessons;
A little late
but never too many;
Having to have had
a little bit too much fun
with all of the wondrous
adjectives
that I can weld
and meld together;
I can make___spaces wherever I want,
place commas
wherever, I want,
and let my tippy, skippy,
playful extremities
wander about their
lucious garden.
Hollowed out,
Scavenging
For anything
To consume any amount of space;
Scavenging for fillers,
Scavenging for false hope,
Scavenging for purpose,
Because any of it
Is better than none of it-
This is the world we live in now;
Cunning, sharp,
Quick, and only wanted
At specific moments;
Never appreciated,
Never held loosely,
Never admired,
And when you see
The slight bend
In one of my prongs,
You will throw me away, too,
But one day,
Someone will see
That I can withstand more;
I can handle all that’s on your plate;
Exasperated, complicated, unbelievable, lost –
All so difficult to immediately perceive,
But there is one feeling that is recognized
As quickly as a gift being received,
Only it cuts like a dagger;
Some find it difficult to believe;
It is the condensed sense of hopelessness,
But it makes us grow a little more-
It’s the wake up call
To remind you
Of what life has in store,
And being abandoned is felt,
As soon as they walk out the door
We don’t always want to ask,
But we always want it.
It’s a denial that we are
All accustomed to having.
We can’t always have it
In its prestige form,
But it will always come to us
When we are in most diar need of it.
Whether we find it within ourselves,
Or it comes
In the gift of a particular soul,
It will always be provided.
Like the sun and the moon,
We will always change,
And it cannot be seen over the course of a day,
But help will always be provided,
We will be warmed,
Even when we don’t want to be,
We are convinced that we don’t like the sun,
But we don’t even realize how much
We truly need it,
To raise more than just our body temperatures –
To raise our spirits,
And to help us embrace the cold,
The moon,
And it’s mysterious ways.
A Different State of Mind 