You run in life like we’re running through

Hell’s widest body of water,

The soles of your bare feet are 

Gathering gravel and broken glass

And yet you move like a soldier,

You walk light-footed and elegantly. 

I admire you mostly because 

As ethereal as you are to other men

And as grown a woman to other women,

I know you’re a baby girl inside crying

Because she lost her favorite hair pin. 

It sounds rather dangerous to make love and 

Play gods of our own world, practically suicide.

Love me to death or not, I say.

While I’m untying knots, make sure

You don’t fall in love with me.

Waking in the morning, 

Closing our eyes at dusk,

These things take time to

Adjust to.

You’re so dangerous for me

And I for you. 

Journal Entry 5-17-13

Been taking my medicine consistently, i.e Zac remembered something. That’s a good sign. Unfortunately..

I’m in a constant paralytic state of melancholy. It’s transparent. It’s there but I can hardly touch it if I try. I feel so dead to myself and the world.

I’m worried about my future, about graduating college in 4 months and being out on my own. I’m lost as to how my dreams could come true. I’m doing my best to be happy. I’m without options here, I don’t have cream from my coffee and all I have for food is turkey burgers and spaghetti. 

I’m not miserable or anything. I’m actually virtually thoughtless most of the time I’m in school or talking to people, like they’re not even there, nor am I.

If I were to talk to anyone about the way I’m feeling I wouldn’t expect anyone to have something to say; who could? What could you possibly say to a manic that shifts frequently in and out of existence, from the depths of catacombs in buried sand to the upper edges of the atmosphere, where I’m so high on my body’s own chemicals that I can do anything. 

It’s my own problem to deal with and I don’t say that purely from the stance that bothering others isn’t my business. I say that because it’s internal, it’s me, it’s my head, it’s my life, it’s my madness.

Guess I should feel lucky, because I’m not without. I own madness.

Stuff of Dreams

I slip into my shoe and forget about,

With lost widgets and pocket lint

In the same pants every day,

The stuff of dreams.

I cough at and rearrange in my mouth,

Swallowing a second time

More bitter than the first,

The stuff of dreams.

A handkerchief I loved and

Left in the rain, garbage I 

Actually miss but remove from me,

The stuff of dreams. 

Everywhere you go is a place I will

Have seen eventually.

We decided to share a pair of eyes

That could exchange sights 

In the short process of 

Connecting. 

Before we made this regular

We would walk by each other

And I’d feel you stealing a

Memory from me 

With a glance,

Like you made food

From my thoughts. 

You knew why I was hurting

Or Beaming and more 

Astonishingly, you knew that

I was. 

I approached you, this knowing,

And asked if I could do the same

With you, and since then 

A lot has been shared 

That talking about could

Never elegantly depict,

And though you’re gone

I still see through your eyes.

Did you forget, or are you

Just trying to torture me?