i miss my dad.

Above the ground, you and I are trees.

Above the ground, you and I are trees.
I am on the western side of the hill, you on the eastern.
My branches over look the coasts of polluted lakes and vast greenery.
Yours hunch over cities explored and walked through, falling over streets and rivers.

I feel far from you, my branches don't reach to your limbs, and on a few of my extremities sit burdens and worries about the change of weather.
I don't stretch as tall as you into the sky, and I'm okay with that.
But I want to see the stars with you

Although above the ground we are distant, and undoubtedly lonely, both of our roots travel endlessly within the soil.
Our heads go in circles with branches in the air and although it's deep, and feels like it's hard to reach,
hard to feel,
hard to see,
we're connected.

My roots intertwine with yours,
they meet and flirt with the concept of diffidence and talk words that have to do with love and things that made our leaves grow faster with the thought.

In the middle of my idle trunk half of me is above the surface, missing you and longing to watch your limbs dance with the wind.
The other half of me is beneath,
underground,
buried below the loneliness of what I feel when the moon makes it's appearance.
And while underneath it all,
I feel you,
I hear your roots stretching to meet mine,
and I can feel you.



I love you.

Small and Fragile Like Ash

I know the hooves of those horses will be echoed back to you.
I know this because I have heard them at the bottom of everything, and like shadows they stand behind you.
Until your hands turn to stone, and your head becomes the turf in which they gallup on.
There will come a time where the sound of the hooves will fade into the blackness and you will tilt your grassy head back and all the horses will fall into the echoes of their own path.
You will blink your eyes and as the moon drags you by your dissatisfactions, you will break into pieces small and fragile like ash.
You will fly about like phrases in the air and the atrocity of this night is that the crows are stuck in the sky.
I shall bring you a bowl of your own notions and by spoon I will feed you until you are whole again.
The gawking of those smaller than you will cease and inside of your head, the soil will begin to cave in and it will engulf your very being, you will be swallowed up and galloped upon by hooves dancing to their echoes.

i'm so tired

i'm so tired of  being the shoulder to lean on
of giving the advice, and wiping the tears.
i'm tired of digging through every one else's buried shit, in order to find their problems, for them.
i'm tired of being the keeper of secrets,
the one who speaks when everything goes wrong.

i want to be loved too, you know.

i don't know how to explain my feelings. i don't know how to describe this lump in my throat.

under wide skies, i know a place where we can go.

under wide skies, lies the chaos of today
and within all the chaos,
we found safety.
a place i like to go, where people smile just because the wind is blowing, and there are no such thing as second guesses or secrets.

your eyes are so blue, but i know you feel bluer.
and i know this place we can go under wide skies.
the water is pure and if you feel broken, take a sip and you feel whole again.

" i'm screaming at the top of my lungs,
and i'm pretending that the echos belong to someone. "

inside of everyone

inside of everyone is a secret world that spins with every blink of frozen eyes.
and the seas on this planet crash and throw themselves onto lands untrue and deceitful.
the soil soaks up the the water, cleansed and purified,
and what is it we are fighting for?
because i walk from here to there and back here again, but my eyes are stapled open and this world that lays inside of me hasn't moved for days.
and i feel like i'm supposed to be fighting for something.
like i should be defending those without voice.
but i can't seem to find the means of reason.
or why my blood doesn't throw itself over my thoughts like the waved crashing onto lands full of lies.

that three letter word

if there is something up there, then why the fuck am i here?
and why is it up ? why not down ?
and the three letter word that starts with a 'g' and ends with a 'd'.
what does that even mean ?
Man? Woman? does this... this thing, does it get old ?
does it ever die ?
'cause everyone says, "no, he's always with us."
well first of all, "HE" needs to show his face...
because i cannot see him. i cannot feel him.
but it seems as if everyone else does.
as if when they fall to their knees with reason, and expectations to feel lighter, and convinced that their heads are clear enough to go to sleep.
i've tried...
doing this whole 'knees on the floor, hands on the side of my bed, head down', ordeal.
and every time i open my mouth to speak to this floating existence,
i get stuck.
and my thoughts that i try so hard to conform into sentences that fly out of my mouth,
well they become censored.
and i am afraid.
of what this...
this person in the sky thinks.
i don't even know him. i can't feel him like they do, but i am still afraid of all that he is.

floating sunlight

underneath the table is floating sunlight that doesn't move anywhere.
but stares at the weeds growing next to the streets,
and their whispering to you, coaxing you in to thinking it's safe to let the sunshine be poured onto you through a flask
you're glittering.
and the hum of the wind is sewn onto your skin,
and butterflies catch your breath.
but you don't like it, and you scream with a voice soaked in derangement.
you scream so loud that the mouths of fire places begin to dig their roots into your scalp.
and like wind and waves,
they swell and blow over you.
but you are still, and soft.
sitting in a chair, at the table that is home to the floating sunlight.