The Session

Insurmountable emotions

An understanding of brokenness

Loneliness incumbent

Death’s hollow emptiness

Resident of the heart

Purveyor of ills

Torturer of minds

Master of thrills

Words of wisdom

Depression’s deaf ears

Killer’s instinct

Life’s endless fears

Brittle life, brittle bones

Fragile mind, hefty tomes

Suggestible demeanor

Ever, always, kill the dreamer

Empty threats, obscure desires

Hold your breath, extinguish fires

Fear and wanting, all the same

Listen closely, you know my name

A calling in my heart, insurrection

A battle of the mind for my protection

Insistent with its claws, this my depression

Hold your peace; we’re now in session

[Two lives, colliding intentions]

Two lives, colliding intentions:
One life of the mundane,
One life of inventions.
Always, the sliding
Towards the habits of the insane,
The life I’m deriding.
The search for prevention:
My want will not wane
For the shift in attention.
Tired of the hiding
Amongst ordinary and plain,
I would halt this colliding
If this sudden detention
Of thoughts less than sane
Guaranteed my retention
Of what I’m confiding
I could never feign.
I find myself siding
With my only suspension:
A joyous refrain,
One artistic intention.
The time has been biding;
Now waiting is slain.
Now it’s coinciding,
This tricky convention;
It follows the strain,
Removes apprehension.

[I Lie in the Dark]

I lie in the dark

Wait for the sun

Surrounded by art

Like an unfinished sum

Expansion elusive

The finish unseen

The darkness intrusive

Like an unraveled seam

Allowing reentry

To worlds yet unknown

As I stand here sentry

In a darkened home

The dark is a curse

I cannot explain

The light its reverse

The removal of pain

Spirals

Spiralling:
The downward circles sapping energy,
Extracting wakefulness.
Plummeting:
The circles of slow descent abandoned,
All but forgotten.
Settling:
The stasis of hopelessness weighing down,
Breaking resolve.
Acclimating:
The knowledge of placement accepted,
Resigned to.
Stirring:
The spirals of activation gaining momentum,
Rising faster.
Rocketing:
The circles of slow ascent ignored,
Determined useless.

Finite

Anxiety stems from my finiteness, such definition, such absoluteness. I know that one day I will die. What I don’t know is how or when or why. What kills me even more is that those I love will be no more, torn away before I’m ready, so forlorn. Am I alone in this fear, these tears? Or do we all hold this inside, the bitter idea that we will die? Maybe it’s a natural human tendency; maybe we’re transcended endlessly, never capable of meeting expectations set by an infinite God; maybe we’ve been outdone by the one we laud. Or maybe we’re still holding our belief at arm’s length. If we believe when convenient, then I think we’re all in agreement, this way of life is not deviant. We place standards on ourselves to overcome, but we’re out to overcome the one we can’t even run from.

Lost in Emotion

Sometimes I think of childhood, lost, and I cry;

I think of the long days all gone by –

It seems too short to say goodbye.

Sometimes I feel like I am young once more;

I cry about small things like when I was four –

It shakes me up to my very core.

Sometimes I have feelings with which I cannot relate;

Feelings of sadness, happiness, come too late –

Feelings like memories, lost, this I hate.

Sometimes I cannot comprehend what I feel;

I wonder at times if it ever was real –

Yet the memories, lost, disallow me to heal.

Sometimes I desire to reach back in the past;

Yet it is not as though I want those feelings to last –

I merely wish it didn’t pass by so fast.

Sometimes I want to remember the feeling I felt;

It comes to the surface like an untimely welt –

My heart, reason unknown, begins to melt.

Sometimes I ponder whether all feel this way;

If we all wonder why the feelings don’t stay –

If all have the feelings that don’t go away.

Sometimes I consider myself one of a kind;

No one else has to ponder as much in their mind –

No one else has to search in order to find.

Sometimes I believe no one ever could understand;

That often even I find it difficult to stand –

That when I’m lost in emotion I just need a hand.

[An Imagination Growing Cold]

An imagination growing cold,

Possessing no dream or lasting hope.

I have fallen for a deeper trope:

New words proclaiming meanings old.

Imagination believed the claim,

Embellishing where falling short,

Yet never dreaming it of the sort

Of which to say, "It came

And went; no lasting dreams,

A fading hope already spent."

A feeling borrowed, or rather, lent:

The price, my heart torn at the seams.

Destroyed by words designed to rend;

The power of syllables deeply felt:

To lock a heart or defenses melt.

Some phrases spoken are hard to mend.

I search still deeper in my heart

And find I still cannot believe

The words that pierce my heart and cleave

That beating organ part from part.

I will not say, "It came and went;

No lasting dream, a fading hope,

No meaning beyond a simple trope."

I will not say, "Already spent."

Dreams growing cold: a dying ember

Ignites my soul; it lights my mind;

It forces me to look behind.

It tells me softly to remember.

1/14

Poem

Written for the dreams of the dead and dying
Deceived by those who are always lying
Their tongues drip with deception
Bitter cold is their reception
Some, desperate for love, think to find it here
I cannot find love in hatred-filled sneers
Oh, God, come cleanse me from the evil beside me
Rip out the fingers around the heart inside me
They are hopeful that they can claim me for their own
Unfortunately for them, I am not alone
I am far beyond their touch
They cannot count me as such:
I am no longer under their false power
You fill me more with Yours every passing hour
I do not seek from them love I do not need
I have what I want and I pay them no heed
I cannot be counted among the dead
Despite any whispered words they have said
Neither am I the one who is dying
It is merely them practicing lying
But some are deceived, some are dying and they are dead
It is for any hope they have, these words I have said
I know there is hope because my soul is saved
And I hope with this hope, the Way I have paved

Expression

This is kind of raw. And the rhyming is strange. But whatever.

Impossible to tell how I feel

Yet I know that it is real

The way of how I am

The story if my life

My heart with a broken seal

Yet I know that it is real

How often I can’t express

Go and put me to the test

I’ll know not what to say

They fail me every time

The words mean less and less

They only make a mess

My heart holds much

It holds to it, as such

I want to say what I mean

It is as though I don’t

My heart’s strong clutch

My secrets no one will touch

Yet secrets are not what I desire

This feeling is burning like a fire

I know it is known and not

My heart does not fully tell

My heart: deceptive, a liar

I want to tell how much I admire

Admiration is not the extent

The love from my heart was not merely lent

The way I feel is never fully stated

I wish it could be read and known

I wish they were words in a letter sent

I wish you knew it will never be spent