Fear, it does a terrible thing to people
It grips and tries to wrap me in the endless darkness. And it rushes forward into me, but it can’t overwhelm, because I won’t let it. Because I have the best people in my life to stop it. I have Keith Selover. I have Amelia Mindich. I have Dylan Johnke. I have Darra Loganzo. I have Remie Brazee. I have Leila Smiley. I have Greg Briker. I have Emily Shiang. I have Zach Halle. I have Albert Cedeno. I have Brittany McManus. I have Devin fuckin Sullivan. I have Kushal Desai. I have Emilia Naranjo. I have Lauren Lee. I have Sofia Guijarro. Fuck it, I have Tom Beauchemin. I have Josh Roeder. I have so many good people and if I lost any one of them, I’d be a worse person for it. I really would and I don’t regret a damn thing this year, because it’s been great. So anyone who disagrees, fuck you. Not that I can beat you in a fight or anything. But all my friends? I think together, we can. I think together, we can beat fucking anything.
Everything comes apart if you find the strand; all it takes is a hand
It started off kind of nice. There was no weight on my shoulders. Maybe the decision to wear a short-sleeved shirt was good. The breeze, the air, it feels soothing as it pushes my body into it’s relaxed state. It was an easy day. No strenuous activity. The people around me were allowed to just be in a regular state. No stress or fractures. I had time to let my mind unwind and defry. I had time to just sit and let my muscles recharge and my dreams reignite. But it crumbles apart as the moon rises in the sky. And so by the time I’ve reached this hour, I’m decimated and dare I stay up later, I’ll become just a shadow of myself, withering away into the abyss. And so I plunge into the cushions, hoping they’ll take me away. But they won’t. I’m stuck here. And the bits of escape, they only last so long.
How I’d Love to Give In
You’re face is so pretty, but I hate it. It’s not supposed to be here. It just doesn’t fit. Like a beautiful color in a black and white world, you are out of place and you are not supposed to be here. So leave. Don’t you ever think for one fucking second you can stay here. We don’t want you. Frankly, I don’t think anyone ever did. So crawl into your shell and explode, because you’re better to us in pieces. All of you at once is simply grotesque and overwhelming. So shatter and shatter again. You are unworthy, you are misshapen, and you are wrong. So stop.
Here, I’m allowed everything all the time.
My face sears open and the guttural rush of the ocean sweeps through. I am dying and draining at the height of it all. There is no place. The place is fleeting and ephemeral. I used to think it was because of my age, but now I know, regardless, it always slips away. The incessant churning of the ever expanding, ever growing, ever connecting machine pulls it all away and it pulls me along. Along the line down, barreling towards an end. And not a second to stop. The art spinning colors of the world around my eyes and not a second to grasp it and look at it. The friendships too strong for the love affair’s temptation and a heart that would rather live on scraps than risk starvation. Because starvation is always imminent; when you’re running you need food. A million blank pages flying in the wind and not a second to fill them. Not a second. Pulled down the line towards the end and not a second to stop. It is all so imminent. It is all so fast. But if I find a little bit of green. I can cut myself off and not fall down in the process. Just a little bit of green. What a futile goal. What a futile fucking world.
