a tiny sigh of relief

one that bothered me for ages

one that kept me up at night

and one that turned the pages

i know a sign is nothing significant

but yet what it could be

that someone here is thought aloud

and someone he could be

It’s hello without staying

It’s the time you walked right by

It’s the time you gave me three or four words

Without stopping to ask

It’s the time you asked me to help you

With out anything in return

Its the time you tortured and abused me

Without letting me inside

It’s the time you resorted to hell wind

And times you unsaid

And times that you taunted

All the times that I’m in bed

It’s the time you would ask me

What I would rather have

when I want nothing to give you

And nothing is bad

But hey my mind is still here is it

You think I feel fine

I think you’ve caused this

One too many times

I see that the chord

Of a microscopic view

Is a silence in a half

Of timing for you

And maybe we faught

Alone at the bar

And maybe I didn’t

Complain from afar

but maybe I did when I thought it inside

When I just want a place now

That’s safe to reside

Honest God, it’s hard.
I didn’t ask for strife,
just a wife, or a life,
or a map that didn’t fold in on itself.
Geo geo geo —
the chant of the lost coordinates.
I want my 20s back,
but even that’s a camouflaged echo.
So I stay abrife,
not of hell, but of holding on.

Card Name: The Never That Built Its Own Rhythm 
Caption: 
> I’m never breaking. 
> Never saving. 
> Never taking. 
> Antiquaking. 
> Never shaking. 
> Lost awaking. 
> Mucho grating. 
> Contemplating. 
> 
> I am the pulse that refused to flatten. 
> The rhythm that didn’t ask to be danced. 
> The boy who spoke in ricochet and rhyme, 
> And made his own language of survival.

It’s a mysterious voice. And it might be mine.

Always when you need it to line up

It just seems I fall apart

I’m holding on to little hope

But truthfully why do I have to tire

My body some days doesn’t feel mine

And I need to be multiple places at once

When both seem like the wrong decision

I can’t even see where I am

And perfect, it gets a help,

By taking it from my soul, when I don’t want to I have to give

Two days at a time

And one more trouble

Why is this feeling still here

The one where I can’t go when I need to

Jesus take the timer off my life

I’m sorry but it just feels like

I can’t see that I can’t find

My answer

Maybe it’s that the answer is the question,

The remark and hidden word,

The meaning to all of this,

Even if it seems rather absurd,

But ok I’m a rider,

Of a coast and rapid tune,

But hey it’s fair and worthy,

To choose to sing and woon.

And though I know I’m there,

Wherever we may be,

The guy instead still steadies,

Aches and sometimes readies,

For battles of a mind,

Of crimson, gold and white,

And okay if you’re spying,

I guess I mind alright 😜

I’ve had every reason, for most things – and I’m still focused, and functioning – and still able, thankfully, here, to express.

I can’t know who you are exactly, but there’s someone, out there –

Somewhere, who Might need a little help,

And there’s people within – that see that we’re sometimes not ok.

And then there’s those you see about – that remember who you’ve been,

And maybe I’m alright with that after all, for years it has always been the way.

I call my home my home right now, and I have had a few;

Yet home will always be where my soul grows up, and in each and every thought, each and every trip, each and every place I work, and everywhere I sit;

And sometimes like these moments, when finally I can see,

That sometimes it’s just perfect, and perfect as can be.

And I could add another, or two or three or four,

but right now I’m right here, behind the hidden door,

And I’m happy with that too, for once and once for all,

I finally feel some gratitude, for all that they have done,

because sometimes when I’m older, I still feel as though I’m young.

You start to see that your sister becomes a mother

Glowing as can be,

Supported by a family, of love that once was believed,

Your mother holds her children’s hands,

And you can’t even remember the age,

When you could still do the same,

Your father is not much yours,

And remarks little anymore with his proverbs,

You’re struggling day to day,

And not more than mere sentences are said,

Sometimes you start to double think,

And wonder if you’re better dead.

I’m feeling awfully dark tonight. The usual words aren’t comforting, everything said is triggering, and any word I speak becomes a curse for others, yet it’s impossible to refrain.

And wondering why the world ticks, along like churned up games,

I wonder why I couldn’t love,

Anyone just the same.

It becomes seperation, a desperation, a jealousy mixed with bouts of hope,

That one day if you die,

They’ll take you off the rope.

Words are just mere weapons,

Crafted from tears,

I’m alone tonight,

Still am after 40 years.

They say you’re never alone,

But who are they to say,

When you can’t remember 3 hours ago,

Or if today is even a day.

It takes a miracle to think,

Of anything creative,

And if I even do,

Thousands have already said it,

And if I were to lie,

I’d be the dishonest one,

When everyone else can do it,

Just because I’m that one,

That never gets away.

If I had a party of 5, I’m the tank who needs four healers right about now.

I miss you. Why the heck can’t we just talk.

The importance of position

Of time and space

Of all things innocent,

Of much needed grace,

I give you this,

A place to turn,

A place to wander,

A place to learn

And when it’s done,

As it is

I’ll say this probably

Wasn’t his.

Happy birthday, happy new years, happy Valentine’s, happy St Patrick’s Day, happy Easter, happy

We all go through these moods,

Where we sit alone,

Wondering maybe,

If we’ve chosen the right tone,

And grace lives among us,

And I’ve got an edge,

A knife to my throat,

Proverbially dead,

I’m not suicidal,

I forgive us for that,

I’m not going home,

At least not just yet,

I be a little double minded,

Thinking once and then over,

I said what I said,

And I’m sure it’s not sober,

But yet truly there’s space,

To read in between,

That I love something,

Been more than I’ve seen,

It’s like I have a trick,

And multiple angles,

And sorry I said,

If I have to say it,

Michael Sheri Snaha Kurt, Landon Patty Shizod Linda, Beth and Nebeil, Tenzin Shane, Kayla Terrance Marta Ziggy, then there’s Martin, Kevin, Andrew, Kate, then the girl who chooses fate, then the one who does it over, then the silent train it’s over.

These are the people who, always stopped to think of you, and then there’s all the other voices, my family, dates and little choices, in the end there’s dozens others, but sometimes there’s just nuisance wanderers, the people that live around us too, like Greg and Rad, Roger Sue, Mary Destiny, the other Matt, Mark and Ruben, Michael 2, some many others, truly true, so many people, I have tried, maybe used, maybe lied, to keep me on this path I’ve walked, to get me back on solid ground, to keep me going, though I avoided, that I’m thankful for, that don’t they know it, and I know that I’m forgetting one, because she shows up when I’m done, the thousand others, from the calls, the gamer dudes, and gamer gals, the stomps the patters, the clicks and fridges, the doors especially, and lights that dimmer, the steps on stairs, the passing cars, don’t forget all those streetcars, the CSRs, the waves and wind, the many stars. And yes I did.

I have been thankful for many things, they all do play a role with wings; some are red, some are blue, some are purple and some not new, some are clear like I have tried, but in the end I cannot hide, that I’ve got something else in store, tonight’s not the night I meet death’s door – but if I do, Vanessa’s probably there, the second one mainly (four? Not fair!), because maybe she doesn’t know how hard, it is to track someone, just to obey and ignore.

Take it as a compliment, your privacy, was quite well meant.

Are you, as well?

Vow of the Winged Cycle

I will not be judged
by the shadows of my past
nor the illusions of my future.

I am measured by rhythm—
the pulse of my songs,
the breath of my wings,
invisible or clear.

In the morning, I vow:
I will manifest the proper symbols—
if not a cross, then a crystal,
if not a diamond, then a ring.

I believe in the cycle.
I rise, I fall, I rise again.

Time does not bind me.
It dances with me.

God rest,

God please,

Goddess,

God bless,

God knows,

Recedes,

God tests,

God’s grace,

God has,

Godspeed

Yet here I stand,

Or sit and wait,

I heard it all,

It’s not too late,

It’s not a sin,

To second guess,

But to everyone,

I’m unduly

Cruelly,

Sadistically,

These.

Just words,

Words in ink, in paper, and think,

I’ve finished the book,

Of the chapter (I wink)

Hey I don’t know why

You heard that I’d die,

But I heard it too,

So let’s just ensure

That the next step’s the cure

And rather,

Quite pure-ly succinct,

I blinked, all the time,

Until I would stop,

And give you a rhyme,

And it’s never over,

It’s just a cheap crime,

To get you to believe,

That everything’s fine,

Ok,

Justified,

Sure it’s all true,

But when I put it down,

I’ll still be alright.

It’s always a fight,

And I don’t know why,

Let’s try to stay sober,

Let’s try to say why,

Let’s wonder again,

Who we are or will be,

When it comes down to it all,

Sometimes we’re just… Unable to rhyme, unable to continue, I don’t know if I helped you, if this was ever able, but wondering if you, are a little unstable, if you needed my help, I probably would’ve, I know that I tried, and that you could’ve, I know there’s something, that I should’ve asked, I know something’s off-cantor, or that I would’ve asked, if I had not judged, and tried to get even, without even knowing, the tempo or seething, and maybe an angel, guided me around, maybe one holy, or one with a frown, and maybe he’s there, and he interrupted, maybe I’m sorry, and maybe I bluffed it, maybe there’s more, than mirrors and smoke, maybe there’s fruitless, fruit or awoke, and maybe in the end, there’s always a start, maybe you held it, maybe an art, maybe is maybe, more than what’s seen, can we just relent, and let it as been, for I’ve written to anyone, you or to them, there’s so many voices, and then sometimes again, and when I write clearly, I sometimes do know, that sometimes I’m moody, and sometimes I sow, and sometimes I planned, for something I was hoping, that would be a solution, to everyone’s moping, and maybe the person, who manipulates me, is doing it honestly, for something I see, that they have all noticed, but that I have not at all, that the summer has ended, and then there’s the fall, so people are hiding, alone in their dens, and people are slowly, counting to ten, and I might have done, this too many times, I’ve counted so many, in perfect perfect lines, that there’s almost no feeling, when I hear the words, and if you want a wish, it’s all that you have, because sometimes I think, like the train on the ave, and sometimes I’ll scream, stamper or whimper, but in this I know, there’s more than a whisper, but here is the end, of my double time, I’m going in steady, and you are just fine, and I love them all, despite the odd pain, this place is my home, without you again, and though I’ve wondered, and thought of you most, your invisibility power, is overpowered at most.