I know
I know what i am and i know that i suck
And i know that i have a plethora of random facts hidden inside my messy brain
At the same time i could admit that i still don't know a lot
I know I'm wonderful and beautiful and deserve a life of love and happiness
I’m deserving of it all i know it
But i know that I’m still such a small part of a integral whole
Things don't always work out my way
I know i can't help but to help and i know how that could become selfish
I know that ego is driven by factors beyond our own control
Beyond our own self awareness
Because even digging myself deep into spirituality and finding my way back again
My spirit is constantly reminded that
i
am
human
I like to sit in the grass at dusk
When the summer chill find its way back to the day
I look for 4 leaf clovers
I know i don't have much luck
I feel like I’m always working harder for what i have
I guess i don't mind though
I just wish i had the answer to it all
~~
Living
Why do we have it so hard to move?
To change?
The fire is swelling in my soul,
The burn,
The rage
The gears are turning they need to fly
Far away they need to play
And seize the day.
But instead i just gaze and
Lay in the flowery fields that I raised in my head,
While in bed.
I rest.
Maybe today I tried my best,
The sun still shines and tomorrow ill remind myself
How great it is,
To just be alive.
~~
Falling
Is this falling behind?
Knowing you're never on the same level
And never will be ahead of the game.
Wondering why it’s so easy for the rest
and all i can do is my absolute fucking best
It must be a test to see who can do the most,
with absolutely zero rest
and all i need
is
to
sleep
They say that this life is not for the weak
but I'm feeling more meek
while smiling cheek to cheek.
How will you know
without the simple question of
“How are you doing”
It's alright…
because I’ve been asking myself that more often than usual
and to exchange my energy within myself is wonderful
scraping whatever is left on the sharp edges
fingertips bleeding from cleaning the corners
but finding the walls running way to high
…I can't peek over
~~
Too Much
I’m sorry if I’m ever too much for your liking
but I’m not sorry for me I’m sorry for you;
Sorry you'll never get to experience the fullness
The plump wholeness of this being.
The riveting nonsense and bountiful tiny beauties.
The disbelief in these beliefs,
and the wondrous patterns in the trees and leaves.
Seeing visions in the clouds might be too much
but I’m clutching onto the reality of it all
While sitting in the wildflower meadows of my mind
~~
A certain kind of space
Why do I shudder at the thought of a quiet place.
at the same time crave the pure darkness and toneless quietness of the everything of space.
I need my space while simultaneously needing to be in his space.
His energy navigates my calm,
to free up space in the cloudy spaciness if my mind.
It’s no ones duty though,
Except my own
I know,
I know
I’m infatuated by co operating and making this house a home
~~
Oh, to be human
My emotions are tidal waves,
then comes the tsunami.
What I feel is so vast, so severe;
while feeling so silly,
Immature.
Even an underdeveloped fruit tree
Is still capable of producing just enough apples for the harvest.
And I find it laughable
in the way i see the absurdities of the world
But I can't figure out why my eyes become flooded through tangible joy.
Or how bodies are beautiful and creepy in the most natural way
I've been searching for a perfect description for how i feel
because amongst this pure bliss, moments that don't feel real
my body somehow houses rage and worry
and the state of being overwhelmed.
I recognize it could cause some confusion;
I am just grateful to be human
~~
No longer a seedling
Sprouting,
Making my way through the surface,
Dirt and all.
I’m here.
~~
Overstimulated
The knots in my unruly growing hair
are slowly becoming a little less bearable.
The clothes in my closet hold stale memories of being left behind.
My socks are uncomfortable,
the seams never seem to stay put on my toes.
My puffy eyes are making it hard to keep an eye out for myself.
The endless goosebumps remind my that I have a body.
But the lack of temperature regulation I have makes time insufferable.
And the pressure of it all makes me melt into a pool of frustration.
I have no urgency and that scares me.
I won't look at the clock anymore.
It humbles me,
gaslights me into thinking the whole day has passed…
2 days…
Or was it 3?
Sitting in a closet filled with salty tears and silent screams.
Lay me in a tub of scalding water;
that’s where pain is fleeting and I’m drowning in my little dreams.
~~
Coffee over tea
Sometimes I prefer coffee,
but I’ve been trying to drink more tea.
Not sure if it’s the energy rush
or anxiety.
Not necessarily always trying to be a “better me.”
So i just take a few moments to sit and sip,
filling my thoughts like I’m my own minds’ secretary
Recognizing my little blips
and why I make certain quips.
~~
Perpetual goosebumps
Alongside the unending state of shocking surreal-ness
Nothing right now seems tangible
~~
Tippy Toes
She has always been on her tippy toes
since a very young age.
There are certain ideas that she’s always known,
an itch inside her was telling her to create little twine wrapped scrolls
with all of her questions tucked tight between her rib cage.
She was picky.
There were very few foods she even ate,
and the hidden corner in her closet,
was merely her escape.
~~
Floating puzzle piece
There's something about me
I can't quite put a finger on.
When I'm happy, I am really happy,
but one little break in the flow
and I am caught in the riptide,
flung about with emotions on a whirlwind tangent,
just trying to be understood
When i can barely put the puzzle of who I am back together
(If it was ever together)
Because now that i think ot it,
my pieces have been drifting out to sea most of my life that now,
I'm soggy.
~~
Less of a hermit crab/ more like a turtle
I'll never get away from myself,
no matter how far I travel
I'll always be carrying heavy,
coiling,
somewhat broken armor.
I am not in my shell,
I am my shell.
I am my own dwelling.
Hoarding sparkling trinkets,
Memories and emotions right on my back.
I can't take it off
It's part of me.
~~
Ode to Over thinker
Raindrops are tapping on my window
I keep looking-
overthinking they are fingertips on glass.
On edge
A calm storm soothes the adrenaline seeking habits
The sound matches my thumping heart
~~
You still got it
Yes, you were broken down
Muddled up into little bits
Yes, still flying
Migrating to more fitting places that you have been too afraid to admit
~~
Burnt out
I'm addicted to my daily lists to avoid any inner conflict.
Trying new methods hoping something just sticks.
Hurting and holding so much emotion,
that nothing seems to fix.
I'm a blown out candle,
burning out, way to quick
~~
Too many
I’m asking too many questions,
I know.
There's just so many unknowns that I need to know.
Even questioning the facts that I do, in fact, know.
I guess I'm just hoping it won't all blow up in my face.
~~
Lucky number?
I’m punching in my lucky number just to have some solace that i’ve at least tried.
It's become a habit now,
counting in 7’s.
Monumental moments,
searching for the right tone to reply.
~~
You
Your joy elevates my tired feet
from the crumbling ground
secures my wobbly vision
while riding a broken down merry go round.
It's the moment,
I dip my toes into the freezing cold ocean,
sending sensation and vibration back up the ridges of my vertebrae;
spinning my world back in motion.
~~
Angel
Hoist me up and elevate me higher
I can see over the edge of your angel wing.
I hear your messages
through rainy winds of the spring
and feel your warm embrace through the fire.
No more need to worry,
you can finally breathe,
We can take care of your earthly desires.
~~
Find yourself
Making it up as you go.
Keep finding yourself again and again,
you keep growing;
just feels so fucking slow.
By the time you reconvene,
You already know.
You're the turtle in a marathon.
you’re also the rabbit;
Jumping to conclusions,
gradually forming bad habits.
Rip the flesh fresh off my face.
Expose the memories my mind will soon replace.
Just begging, begging for a taste,
Who am i?
She's on the tip of my tongue.
~~
Mother
I can hear her whispers through the birds’ conversations,through the swaying of trees,
through the slow bloom of the violets.
She’s sending messages from the bees,
her roots are shifting,
Breaking concrete beneath my feet,
a reminder that we were birthed already whole and complete.
The poison’s been dripping for far too long.
Mineralized and calcified;
Her cries are louder than I can ever remember.
She's mourning in her song,
“Am i still beautiful? Aren’t I still worthy of love?”
She asked with power still quaking in her voice
A little shaky, but radiating confidence.
Before you know it,
you won’t have a choice
If you just listen to the beans in your morning coffee,
with no sugar to sweeten the truth,
it will show you how bitter she can be.
She's speaking through her creations
Keep your mind open wide,
so it can see.
“I can show you the universe, I can show you pure love,
I can show you our connected powers
And all that you can be.
Can you hear me?”
~~
Dear child
I love to look at pictures of my mom back when she was 19, 20, 21.
So yes,
I’ll take the selfie,
painting portraits while I’m young.
But youth is seen as numbers and grandmothers are just antiquated little girls
living out childhood wonders.
Make believe brought to life.
Dreams achieved,
like cutting down a whole forest with a butter knife.
Dear child, hold on tight
and please take many pictures
You’ll be alright.
~~
You’re there
Time stops when you speak
through your movements that move me
Your tiny kicks that extend the skin of my belly
sending chemicals to remind my mind that
I'm a mother.
Time is fleeting with the notion that you can't live forever in the home I made for you.
The safety and warmth of a womb, forever.
A bond so strong that, at the moment,
is only between you and I.
