Strange Soul Estranged Soul

Sometimes I need to escape myself
let go of the hand
thats still holding onto vain ambition
ignorant dreams
of writing and folk songs
a broken sense of love
trying desperately to heal itself
inadequacy suffering
from behind a thin veil
of apathy
I find myself suffocating
under the weight of the
somehow inordinately vacant person
I never thought I would become

So I pretend to be someone else
someone who is so full of life
that they can light up a room
someone who is strong and confident
in the way they face the world
intelligent and articulate
with their ideas and conviction
a masterpiece to behold
but only through cupped hands

or I pretend to be no one at all
adrift amongst a place no ones been
alone with thoughts and feelings
that will never have the chance
to be shared
like stars
they flicker, speaking with each other
about the strange soul
wandering a place
it does not belong
wondering where it had come from
and if it would ever return.

Burning Ourselves

It’s a really bitter thing
because every time you think it’s going to work
it doesn’t
and it won’t
no matter how hard you try to force all of your jagged edges
into those of an equally as broken person
something is always going to be wrong
and eventually, someone is going to give up.
The brightest fires may be the most beautiful
and exciting when they burn
but once you’ve let them die
there is no way to make them burn that bright again
and you may even find yourself trying
so hard
to make another flame burn the same way
even though you don’t have enough air in your lungs
to get it even close.
You have to learn to love the dimmer lights
because they’re easier to sustain
and they won’t burn you as badly
it’s so hard
but once you make it work
it’s magic.

Trying To Live Off Love

We tried living off of love
and for a while
it was the only thing that we needed
to sustain a passion
that would satiate us both

but then we were hungry
hungry for all of the things
that we couldn’t find in each other
hungry for the way we used to savor the nuances
of our unfamiliar faces
hungry for the simplicity of being alone
and being free

and we were tired
tired of trying to tear ourselves down
just to see if the other person would notice
tired of trying to build each other up
so we’d be strong enough to keep holding on
tired of having to salvage
a broken relationship because we knew
that it was all that was left

and we were poor
poor in our sicknesses and our health
so beyond what we were capable of
healing on our own
poor of anything that made us individuals
as we surrendered to our shared identity
poor of the happiness that we knew
we would have been capable of feeling
if we could have just allowed ourselves
to step into the arms of someone else
of anyone else

suddenly love wasn’t enough
our stomachs and our minds had distended
as we found ourselves searching
for something other than what we felt for each other

and then it was painful somehow
and loathsome
the two of us embodied
in our own twisted sense
of what love
was supposed to be like

and then it was gone
and then we were strangers
as you filled yourself
I got emptier
as you rested
I stayed awake
and as you prospered
I fell deeper
and deeper
into poverty

as you picked yourself up
I fell back down
back into love
with you

the only thing that was different
this time
was that I was alone.

New Poetry

He said my name like it was poetry
and the name I had heard every day
called to me my entire life
suddenly sounded like it belonged to someone else
it sounded like the name that belonged to the kind of girl
who was sweet enough for someone to love
intelligent enough for someone to believe
strong enough for someone to respect
and beautiful enough for someone to write poetry about
it wasn’t my name anymore
and now it never will be again.

Don’t Look Back

If done well, reminiscing can be a dangerous thing. Like falling in love with a dying light we find ourselves struggling to hold on to something that is fleeting if it has not yet already passed. A part of us is lost when we watch hopelessly as the past slips through our fingers and it may just be the part that lived those moments but it may also be the part that wishes it could live them again.

Sometimes when we turn around and stare down the path that we’ve already taken don’t we forget to love ourselves as well? We forget to adore fervently the people that we were and had been not because of a societally constructed vein of narcissism but because we know that we wouldn’t be here today without them. We take for granted all of the things that those people had to go through and choose only to see instead the mistakes that they made; cursing and reprimanding them for not being then what we now see as the only acceptable standard.

We are the only ones that cannot forgive ourselves because somehow the mistakes we’ve made are not our own but in fact, those of whom have already left. Although character development is crucial to any story we should not allow our own narratives to come to an end without at least the acknowledgment that good people were lost along the way, whether we had known them or they were strangers, whether they were ourselves or mere embodiments of who we once thought we were.

If you are going to remember anything at all remember the parts of you that no longer stand and revel besides them so that the next time you find yourself struggling you will have someone to look forward and forgive you. Look back and know that every moment leading up to this very second was vital and everyone from now and on is as well.

Taking Adequacey By The Handful

I’ve been laying up at night

taking adequacy by the handful

wondering how long it will be

before you tell me that it’s working.

Even if the dejection

stops pounding in my chest

then I’ll have to dwell

in the bitter, still tender loneliness

of the places, you never touched.

It looks as though

18 years just hasn’t been enough

to overcome my addiction

to everything you won’t give me.