Unrequited

Have you ever loved someone to such an extent that the intent of calling them your whole world isn't enough? Because it's tough to take something so complex as love and give it some sort of physical pretext. So, words struggle to form in your head because how can you find the words for her form. Is her hair as golden as the radiant sun or is its hue more a straw-colored one? She becomes to beautiful for your feeble attempts at comparison and the metaphors struggle to come. Trying to compare the incomparable winds up creating cliched parables that sound more like the writings of maniac than the clever romantic. The hair being impossible to describe, let alone the pale blue-maybe grey-eyes even harder still, a beauty unattainable in words like Helen of Troy, you retreat to the feelings that make you feel like a boy. Again, you're stuck with nothing but overused tropes of butterfly-infested stomachs and how without her you are at the end of your rope. How does one even put such feelings into lines of prose? Why did you think you'd be able to match the literary pros?  Fractured sentences and fragmented ideas are swept into a pile whilst you still struggle all the while. It has become a love dug deep into the heart where the truest feelings begin to seep. Because whether her hair is golden or straw, her eyes blue or grey, you hem and haw looking for words buried in the dictionary to express a love that is anything but ordinary. But in the end the entire struggle was to no avail because there was no hope for you to ever prevail. A heart is put on a sleeve, a naive hope is held onto to believe. A fleeting belief that love still exists between the muse and yourself. Feelings are stored on a shelf in a hope to be shared with her again because they still consume so much of your world. But the love has been replaced by pain and that pain replaced by regret, and the regret, well that's replaced with a hope that you'll be able to forget. Be able to leave behind the longing and wondering, wondering if it'll ever be all right. If maybe you could some how forget the softness in her voice when she said good night or how when the conversation seemed to stop, so did the whole world with it. It's hard not to imagine how her smile seemed to somehow send chills down my spine, yet all I wanted was it to be the only image in my mind. And yet for all these feelings it's hardest knowing they aren't returned and may never be, but somehow that's fine with me.

Drifting

     It's hard to explain the sensation of being stranded in the middle of the universe. And I don't mean some far away planet or some backwards concept that somehow our little pebble is the center of All. The best thing I can think of to describe it is, have you ever been out swimming out in a large body of water? You know that part you get to where your feet no longer touch the ground, but just sort of dangle there. There's still a sense of things around you, you can feel the water currents, the air, your own body moving. But out there stuck in the final frontier there's nothing, your whole body just dangles there in space with nothing supporting you.
      So, some backstory would probably help explain as to why I'm here, but honestly...I don't even really remember, I remember being asleep and then I'm here. Was I part of some alien abduction gone wrong? Was the spaceship low on fuel so they had to jettison something and gave me the cargo treatment? I've been here for about a week and there's been no salvage mission so I don't think I'm lost cargo. You'd think if you're gonna use resources to get something you wanna make sure you get it right? Plus I don't see any planets nearby, but then again they could have used hyperspace...or is it hyperdrive? Light speed?...maybe ludicrous speed....look honestly I have no idea how my car works, let alone space travel.
     And that's it I guess. I know it's anti-climatic, but next time you black out and wind up in the middle of space I'd like to hear your version of events. Not that I could hear it because there's no sounds in space, which makes my attempts at crying for help pointless, but the indomitable human spirit prevents me from not trying. Maybe I'm not human though, it might help how I survived the vacuum of space. I still have no real idea on that one, All the studies I've done (i.e. making an educated guess based on observation) I'm like 95 percent sure I'm human....maybe 85 percent.... The only other thought I had was maybe I was some sort of celestial being given physical form. A powerful entity meant to restore order to the cosmos like Galactus or Thanos. .....Wait those are both bad guys aren't they?
     In any case, I highly doubt that as a possibility because if it were true I think I'd be able to move in some fashion other that aimless drifting. It has given me an incredible amount of time to think about things though or at least I feel like I've had a long time because in space time literally does not care about you. To the universe, currently, I am like a bag in the wind....some random chunk of garbage that will soon flutter on to bother someone else. The feeling isn't that bad though, I'm honestly a lot happier than I have been in awhile. I mean, yeah, there was tons of stuff I still wanted to due back on Earth, but I was also a twenty-something struggling artist who had nothing, but a cell phone, empty wallet, and for some reason a pack of matches to his name when he was expelled into the ether. If art is supposed to be about seeing the universe differently and achieving higher thought or whatever snooty people are saying these days then I've at least succeeded in something.
     I don't know if I really want to go back to Earth though. I did say there was stuff I wanted to do, but tons of people have stuff they want to do and never do. Can't really blame a guy for giving up when there's no real solution, it's not even giving up then is it? I mean if I was captured by some alien race then I could fight back. Theoretically speaking of course because I'd have some enemy to against, a face to the evil, but there isn't so I can't. It's a bit fatalist, sure, but I'm also a realist. A realist artist seems like an oxy moron, but I do what's real. Hell if I even know what's happening currently is real, could all be just some severe reaction to a bad bowl of ramen or whatever. Who knows....I don't really know what this is all supposed to be, a good bye note or something maybe. No matter what it is, how are people even going to see this?
     Whatever, all I know is that in my brief, or long again no sense of time, out here in nothingness I don't think I've learned any big life lessons or universal truths to pass along to whoever this gets this. Sorry, man, if I had something I'd definitely share it, but sometimes things just happen in this universe and you just happen to be caught up in something. Wait, maybe there's the lesson I was supposed to learn. Shit happens.......did I do it? Is this one of those "solve the puzzle and be set free" deals? Nevermind, no one's even listening. To whoever gets this message promise me this....promise me you'll tell someone, anyone, you love them. Sorry, again, if you were expecting something more important, I don't have a wife or anything for you to give a dying message to....so I don't know make something up, you're smart. I assume you're smart because you somehow got this message and if you're not smart then whatever still go find someone to love...or something. I honestly don't care, love is complicated so follow your heart.

Tired Eyes

Tired eyes stare at blank pages
Time passes by fading into the ages
Desperation tries to force perspiration into inspiration

Darkness seeps into the bones
As weary minds dream of home
Exhausted minds fight the binds of time

A quiet voice makes a quiet plea
Something to help them flee
Escape the pain the seems to come without gain

Tired eyes slowly close shut
Their time, finally up
A lost fight, but never a fruitless plight

Reflections

     Have you ever wondered if there's something more to mirrors? Like maybe behind the glass is some sort of alternate world that could be entered if you only knew how. I remember as a kid I used to stand sideways in front of the mirror and try to look at it out of the corners of my eyes. Maybe, just maybe, I could trick the man in the mirror into thinking I wasn't looking and then if I could only just catch him moving I'd have a way into this secret world.
     It's a surreal experience sometimes if you take the effort to just stare into a mirror. Take out all noise and external influences, strip it all down to just you and "yourself", if it can be called yourself. Mirrors really offer us a strange look at ourselves because we only see a reflection and that reflection is changed by our various perceptions...so what are we really seeing? Is it what everyone else sees, some idealized version of ourselves, or even a worse version depending on your self-esteem? Whenever I reached my hand out towards the mirror I wished it would reach back and pull me in.
     I never could imagine what to expect once I crossed through, would it be a whole other world? Or would I be trapped in a permanent state, stuck to that one mirror? I still sometimes wish I could transport somewhere else like that. Just go someplace completely unknown and find something totally new, strange, and all together fascinating.

Weighted Words

The say poetry is a great way to bear your soul, but is the picture we get really whole? Constructed

sentences and grammatical rules force the images and ideologies into the confines of reality. All because we

are tying to be as real as we can be. Words chosen with precision and hopeful decisions that what we say

and when we say it makes some sort of tiny difference, trying to build up some sort of self-defense by tearing

down this emotional wall. That somehow the feelings that made up its mortar would also fall, yet as it all

tumbles down the world appears that much more terrifying all around. Another trust shattered, another heart

broken. Another wall built, another set of words carefully spoken. Hoping this time to permit the vulnerability

without the risk of facing that same sense of fragility. No longer tearing down entire walls, but instead building

little windows and doors. Allowing a look inside and visitors to come and go, but preventing any of the hurt

that came before.

Ghost Towns

     It all began with a loud bang. Tyler woke up rubbing his temples, trying to fight off the light that was violently pervading his eyes. He shifted and sat up in bed taking a glance around  the room. Something was off. It was hard to tell what, but the colors seemed a hue off, the blues were more teal and the reds more orange. Confusing as it was, Tyler forced himself past it and towards his dresser to rummage for today's outfit. A grunge-y, outdated band reference and a hand-me-down pair of hand-me-down jeans. Pair that with threadbare Converse and the Seattle cliche was fully accomplished.
     The morning all together was very confusing as Tyler fought through his faded memories trying to recollect what had happened last night. He sat down at the table glaring so intently at his bowl that to an outside observer it looked like he was trying to move it telepathically. Something had happened, but he couldn't remember what and there were no clues as to what had happened and what is currently happening. Why were the colors so off? And why did his mouth taste steely? Frustrated and angry, he threw his empty bowl into the sink despite never putting anything in it and took his phone out of his pocket to investigate.
     Blank screen after blank screen popped up no matter what he opened. Texts, Facebook, e-mail, no matter what Tyler plunged into he always came up empty. Just what the hell was going on he growled. Angrily, Tyler shoved the phone back into his pocket and grabbed his backpack, walking out the door and turning towards school. No messages from friends or even his girlfriend gnawed at the back of his mind ceaselessly. He wasn't super popular, but he had friends and people to talk to. Reaching up and rubbing his throat as the dryness made a bad enough itch that even a hard swallow didn't do anything to soothe it, Tyler's anger quickly subsided into nervousness and panic. Had people figured out what happened?
     At school things grew even more off, instead of the cacophony of shuffling feet and useless teenage chatter all that could be heard was what sounded like people trying to talk underwater. It made less and less sense as he progressed forward, he was used to being ignored or glossed over but this was a new extreme. Tyler stopped near his locker and stared down the hallway with the look of a man who's been through war. A vacant face and slightly agape jaw as his sanity was slipping away that day. Can anybody hear me? He called out into the hall and was returned with nothing but the loud silence. Clutching his head in confusion and pain he shuffled to his locker swapping books from his locker with his backpack and headed to class, slumping down in his chair. Focusing was impossible since he couldn't understand a word.
     All day his head was swimming. Tyler couldn't tell if this was real or just one big dream, but it seemed to elaborate to be either one. He could hear people talking, or at least the muffled sounds that he assumed where talking, but no one could hear him. Class after class went by, silence after silence, burrowing deeper and deeper into his chest until everything in him resonated with a silent echo. The vibrations felt like they were going to tear him apart from a molecular level and by the time lunch rolled around he had reached that tearing point. Clenching his fists and digging his nails into his palms he sat at his table looking like he was building up energy, body shaking in tension. After a moment of charging, Tyler released what can only be described as a primal scream, no intelligent meaning or thought behind it. It was just a shout into this emptiness, a pouring out of not emotion but energy. Energy that was searching for some sort of resonance, something that it could bounce off of and acknowledge it's existence. Something that wasn't meant for fear or intimidation, but a desperate plea for help crying out for someone to look it's way.
   He sat at his spot shuddering a bit from exhaustion. Tyler eventually slowly stood up exhausted, grabbed his backpack, and exited the school. His head was pounding furiously in it's own desperate attempt to make itself known. The throbbing started throwing flashes of light, brighter than what came off of atomic bombs, in his eyes. Cascading flashes and bangs inside of his head grew in intensity until Tyler collapsed without so much as a faint warning. It just grew and grew in mere moments before dropping him. What little color was left slowly faded out, the light flashes themselves eventually grew dimmer as Tyler's eyes dropped and closed.
    Suddenly and violently Tyler stiffened and shot into an upright sitting position futilely fighting for air. Everything was still silent except for his lungs screaming out in pain and it took a few moments for Tyler to realize he was back at home in his bed. He clutched  his head again and shutting his eyes tight hoping that he could somehow force restart his brain and make everything normal again. It was hard to focus on the reboot though because his hands were shaking, fingertips rattling against his forehead. Nervously he opened his eyes again, finding the color had returned to his world. Shuddering and fidgeting he shifted his body out of bed ready to try standing until his foot kicked something on the ground. Once again things felt silence and all Tyler heard was the pounding of his chest as he stared at the ground. A now empty bottle of medications lay at his feet and everything came back to him.
     Well not exactly everything, but enough fragmented memories to make a collaborative narrative that pieced together the last few days. His breathing suddenly became shallow and his muscles weak. Tyler grabbed the bottle and stood up, tightening his grip around the bottle and gritting his teeth as he felt the plastic start to give a bit. He didn't know which felt worse: the knowledge that he actually tried or the fact that even in this he couldn't do it right. The bottle was quickly thrown away as Tyler went to his mirror hoping to find a reflection other than his own in their. For better or worse what he saw was something else, it wasn't quite a reflection of himself, but more of a ghost wearing his body. Haggard eyes and skin that seemed like it was barely holding, not drooping but clinging to his face listlessly as if it's only reason for hanging on was so it didn't have to exert the effort of getting back up if it were to fall.
     It was hard to tell if this was a hallucination or if this was what Tyler had really become. He knew things had slipped in the past few weeks, but with his reluctance to face it he had no idea how far he had slipped. He couldn't even remember if the school experience was real or what day it was, everything was a blur. His reflection held his gaze as if they were two separate people looking at each other through a window, an unnerving stare that wanted to remind him of his sins and weigh him down with it. Tyler turned from the mirror with no real sense of what to do or where to go. Standing there in silence, he was lost in the truest sense of the word. No idea where he was, where he was going, or even who he was anymore. Something had changed and snapped inside of him, but he didn't know what. He swung his heavy head to the side looking out the window, hoping for maybe some sort of sign from some sort of God. When his plea was again returned with silence he opened the top drawer of his dresser pulling out the small pistol his father had gotten him for "safety reasons".
     Click. It all started with a loud bang.

   

Silent Tragedy

A tangle of emotions
Webs of passion and intensity

Burning inside a restless mind
Tossing and turning with ferocity

A mixture of love and hate
Burdening a heavy heart

Unable able to make the simplest decisions
Caught up in it from the very start

A cavalcade of voices
Drowning out all other sound

Digging deeper and deeper into the soul
Soon clouding up everything that's around

A lonely boy sitting alone
Forcing these things down into the deep

Echoing from the dark recesses
Silent tragedies for him to keep