preaching to the choir.

how to stay strong.

If you looked into my heart, amongst the blood, you would see the tears.

These tears don't ever find their way to my eyes, and they can't seem to run down my cheeks like the rivers I skipped rocks in as a child. 

And like a practiced rhythm, my heart still beats. 

So please, be like every other 'elder' in my life, and tell me how I can be strong. 

By now, it must be true. 

So excuse me as I don't tell you how to be strong, 

I will just defer you to _________ and _________.

------------------

On Thursday, my beanie came apart, split at the top.

Friday, so did my mind. As the thread came apart one thread at a time, so did my sanity. 

Once my sanity hit the floor, so did my heart.

The rhythm stopped, the melody ceased.
And maybe I'm just preaching to the choir,
but y'all suck.

No, I'm sorry.
I have to see you all again tomorrow, so let me try again.
Nah y'all still suck.
And even though the leaves are changing hues, and even though my lawn is deceased, I'm losing it.
No matter how many songs I write trying to regain just a small portion of my consciousness, with every note I procure, I lose myself further.

-

I'm sorry, I'm supposed to tell you how to stay strong.
I just can't keep my eyes open, I just can't keep cutting away at the things that make me weak.

So save your scissors.

But here we go, here's what I've got:
If you wanna be strong,
you gotta cry a bit, just so that you know that you're actually alive still;
you gotta fall a few times, and scuff up your pale knees;
you gotta sit through the constant berating of your choices;
you gotta just spend one day laying exposed in the rain;
you gotta be cold, just once;
Now take all of that, and write it all down.
As the ink seeps into the paper,
                             .
(well that last part is up to you)

Invincible

Before I was strong, I was superman. 

But now, now that I've learned that superman has to have black hair, I've given up. 

And superman, doesn't he have to be tall?

Plus, isn't he invincible?

-

I still have the cape.

-

But I'm here now. 

And I have brown hair. 

And I am 5 feet 8 inches.

And actually, I'm broken.

If I put the cape around my neck, I'm afraid that the velcro wouldn't meet, and the fabric would flutter to the ground. 

I had to grow up way to fast.

I had to wake up to a world that wasn't fit for supermen anymore.

So take me back. 

Because before I was strong, I was superman. 

And before I could fly, I would run as fast as my small legs could carry me. 

And before I could fight, I would just smile. 

And before I could feel my heart ripped from my chest as the ones I loved fell from all around me, 

I was learning how to say mom. 

Cling

Let me live in a world of black and white,
So that when I bleed my emotions the crimson will just fade to gray.
And the gray will fade to black.
And the black will forget.

Without color, maybe for a moment the dying leaves wouldn't be so ugly.
And maybe the dying hearts, too.
If the sky was gray, then maybe I wouldn't be able to see the clouds, and the soft sounds of rain would come as a surprise.
Then if everything was gray, black would be that much more scary.
And white would be that much more pure.

And your eyes would be the most beautiful shade of gray.

Perhaps I could be weightless, just like blackness.
Perhaps all opposites would become reality, and I would actually enjoy sunny days.
Or perhaps it will all stay the same, and I will just fade to gray.

All the flowers would be white, and the pines black.
And the canyon would all blend,
just like the rest of my colorless emotions.

And life wouldn't be as real.

But I would like that.
Because there is one hell I haven't been able to escape, and it's now.

-

Run baby, run as fast as you can.
Run until your shoes are just strips of canvas,
and run until you find the trees.

Run to that world,
of black and white.

Words.

And what if I die tonight?

The question is rendered to be unrealistic now, but seemed so real just a short time ago. 

Listening, listening, listening to the words of the people that I should trust. 

Hearing the same thing over and over, things like, "it's just a bad day" "it's just a bad week" "it's just a bad month" "its just a bad year". 

The words, they said all the wrong things. 

It didn't matter who said them, 

the words were just wrong. 

Too long have I been reading the words of people that are dead or dying, and not the words of someone that is alive. 

And to this point, I wonder if I was dying, or if I was alive. 

I wonder if my words spoke life into you. 

I wonder if the words that come from my finger tips say the things that the words just didn't say to me. 

I just wanna be caressed and hear the words say, "hey baby, it's gonna be ok."

Sometimes I wanna hear the words say, "sit down boy and take a listen. when are you gonna do it right?"

Sometimes I wanna hear the damn words say, "you fool."

-

I wish the words could have just told me I was wrong. 

-

And as the tears slip off my cheeks and slam into the keyboard like atomic bombs, 

I wanna hear the words say "this life, it's real, and you're here"

But they haven't yet.

And sometimes I wanna hear the words say "you're alive"

But up to this point, the words haven't said a thing. 

All they've said is "you're dying"

And then it's all real again. 

"it's just a bad day"