They've Got My Back

An Intervention

My eyes betray me,
leaving me in the dusk.
Only my ears work for me now,
reaching out
for the words tossed at me
through the thick shadows.
Yet, I find myself
doing my best to dodge the pitches,
not wanting to catch these balls.
They are filled with
the worst kind of agony;
the truthful kind.
The sort of sting
that lasts,
as I know they cannot
be ignored,
simply swelling on my skin
until I tend to the wound.
The validity
lights a fire within me,
scorching my innards,
smoking out the falsehood
from my lungs,
so I can no longer
spout the wishes
and dreams
that were lost long ago.

I try to thank you both
for awakening me
from my self-induced fantasy,
but my heart cuts me off,
my veins wrapping
around my windpipe.
For,
though my brain has
written off all hope,
my soul cannot seem
to simply surrender,
raising arms
against logic and reason.
This will be a war
that no one wins,
but it must be fought.


I've tasted this medication,
and my stomach now roils
at the sight of it,
unable to accept
such a putrid pill.
The doctors all insist
it will heal me eventually,
yet the hurt burns away
at my throat
as it slides through me,
slimy, stinging, scorching.
So I crumple up
your prescription slip,
eating it
so it might smolder to nothing
on the way down.


I know it's a lot to ask,
but just promise
that if you find me,
a broken toy strewn on the street,
that you'll pick me up
out of my puddle of dismay
and shove me on my way,
leading me back to the light
you so willingly offer now,
but that I can't seem to accept
just yet.

So we sit in the darkness,
muttering at the shadows,
and wishing beyond belief
for a life worth living.

Out of the Shadows

My Facebook newsfeed seems to hate me more and more each passing day, showing me shit I never wanted to see.


Out of the Shadows

You sift through the night,
riding my shadow
like your own stallion,
sending shivers
down my spine.
And, just as I settle in
for a good night's rest,
you pounce,
ripping out my heart
with your bare hands.
I see it,
beating in your grasp,
and look away,
disgusted by the sight.
I pray for the final blow,
so that I could forget,
but this assassin
has no mercy,
no compassion,
leaving the bloody mess
for me to mop up.
And, as I lie in bed,
I know this won't be the last time.

I feel the thoughts
slit my throat in my sleep,
spilling my emotions out
onto my pillow,
mingling with the blood and tears.

The Stage

After seeing a dance recital tonight, as prompted by a good friend, I found myself reflecting on it in a different lens.


The Stage

First, there is darkness.
Heavy breathing
can be heard,
the anticipation
for the beginning.
Suddenly,
a bright light
springs from nowhere,
and the noise envelops you,
tearing you
from the safe reality
you knew for so long.
At first,
the movements seem awkward,
as you are not yet sure
what to expect.
Yet, as time passes,
it grows more natural,
more fluid,
and a new found passion
takes over,
along with
a healthy dose
of experimentation.
And,
just as you've seen this play
grow to greatness,
you find yourself in the dark
once again,
yearning to see more.

When the curtain closes,
you weep from joy
for what was,
and from sadness
for what could have been.

You Care

The feeling that there is someone out there, giving a damn that you exist, means everything in this world of passerbys.


You Care

In a world that doesn't care,
you're there.
In a world that rejects me,
looks down on me as nothing more
than a lost puppy in their path
that they just have the urge
to kick,
you deflect the blows
and hold me close,
giving me a home to go to.
You listen
when no one else hears,
and speak
when they are lost for words.
You are the real deal
amid a sea of impostors,
the truth
among a cacophony of lies.

In a world that isn't all there,
you care,
and forever I will cherish
this relationship so rare.

A Ray Of Light

A Ray of Light

The clouds.

They've hovered above me

for too long,

blimps of despair,

observing every wound,

every heart wrenching moment,

and laughing,

slimy smirks spread

across their bulbous balloons.

I, chained to the darkness

by the wretched rending

of my sad soul,

pray for an escape

from my maltreated mind.

And, like that,

I feel something on my shoulder.

I turn, to find that

a bright ray has

reached down from heaven,

guiding me out of my sharp shackles

and into the wide world,

where we will wake

from the solemn slumber

and revel in the time

we still have.

Spirited and lively,

the light launches forward,

glancing back at me

expectantly.

With a smile

and a sigh,

I rush after it,

my manacles cracking noiselessly

as they crash to the ground.

Lost At Sea

Lost At Sea

Where have you gone, hope?
I search for you
on my lips
and in my heart,
yet you have stolen yourself
from my sight.
Have you simply disappeared,
or have you eloped with another,
leaving me a withering soul
as my only memory of you?
Am I doomed
to suffocate
on my own dreariness,
drown in my tears,
or simply fade away,
a shadow of my old self?
How do you expect me
to have any chance
in this people-eat-people world
when you have devoured
all that I've aspired to be,
leaving me with an empty plate?
I'm up a creek
with no boat,
floundering for reason,
answers drifting past
on the splashing tides,
but never staying long enough
for me to read them.
I've held on to you,
a rock in my life,
for so long.
So now that you've
broken out of the riverbed,
I find that I've forgotten how to swim.
And unless you catch me,
I'll be free-falling to rock bottom
soon enough.

Maybe someone will
come looking for me.
But when your own hope
has given up on you,
what's to stop everyone else
from doing the same?

Moving On

Is it time to move on? ...I can't be sure. Not ever. But if I don't sooner or later, the world will pass me by, and I'll be so consumed in a false hope that I may eventually lose myself in the darkness. So, whether I'm ready or not, here I go.


Moving On

For the longest of time
you've had me tied down,
always there
in my mind's eye.
For too long
I cherished the dreams
and the nightmares
that you starred in,
my mind your personal stage.
For a year
I had not seen the beauty
shining from you
both inside and out.
Yet for weeks
I've been enraptured by your presence
your very existence in my life.
For now on
I am a changed man,
and for the better,
all thanks to you.
And forever will I remember you
and love you for it
knowing that I'd never be here
without your guiding hand.
But, for now
I must break the chain that holds me fast,
the leash I've been tugged along by,
the infatuation that has bogged my mind.
For the time being
I must let go,
or be consumed
by the chaotic feelings within.
For my emotions
have rebelled for too long,
holding a full frontal war
in the pit of my stomach.

Our friendship will never die.
Not by my hands.
I care about us too much.
I can't say I'll ever let go.
I can't bare to lie to you ever.
But I can say that, for now, I'll let go.
For I hear the hurt in your voice.
See the worry in your eyes.
Feel the heartache on your breath.
And hurting you was never my intention.
Clearly, I have failed you in that respect.
Forever I am sorry for that.
My mission now is to relish our friendship.
For you are, by far, the best friend I have ever had the privilege to have.
And know that I will always love you.
Know that I will always be there for you.
Know that I'll never leave your life.
For my debt to you is un-repayable.
And, if you ever feel something, let me know.
That doorway will still be open for a while.
For one does not simply get over something like this.
Don't ever hide your emotions from me, I beg of you.
I can take the hurt, the pain.
I've seen that before.
And it will hurt much less than knowing you hide the truth from my eyes.
Much less than knowing what I think is lies.
So try your best to entrust in me.
Just as I will always entrust in you.
I mean, what are best friends for, if not for that much?
So here's to moving on.
May we never move apart.

A Chill in the Air

When did it get so damned cold outside???


A Chill in the Air

My spine is frozen in place,
an icicle hanging from my head.
My hands shake,
wind-up toys,
uncontrollable
now that they've been wound up.
My arms grow numb,
no longer my own,
but those of a stranger
walking within me.
Yet, between my heart
and legs,
I pump my way
through the desolation,
the icy and unfriendly streets,
praying to be able
to feel
Not as I did
before the cold,
no,
those times are long gone.
As the ice has melted and refrozen,
I've morphed and changed,
twisting my shape into
a me far beyond what I would have imagined.

I rub my rock between my fingers
out of worry,
reminding myself
that this isn't a dream.

An Inspiration

I happened to be perusing my Facebook feed this morning when I came across a poem by a good friend of mine, Hansen Hwang. He is Chinese, and has chosen to study at Moravian for his entire college career, having to learn the English language, and he is now very fluent verbally.
What really strikes this about this piece, however, is how heart felt it is, even though he isn't even writing this in his natural language. It is a testament to how far he's come the last two semesters, and I'm proud to be his friend.

How heavy it is
To support a life?
It's such a weight,
cannot hold in bare
hand.

So I stood on thy
shoulder, as thou
cover me with thy
wings, and fly me
high.

But I was wrong --
Thou art not my
angel, that I have to
find that Atlas, on
my own.

"Thank" is too simple
to cover your greatness,
for now I should grow
my wings, in the seed you
plant.

-- to Becky Ginther, who saved a cat that killed himself eight times.

One of What is Sure to Be Many Rants

I feel like my writing tonight was a bit lackluster, so it's time for a good ol' rant!
Today's Topic: What People Think About One Another
So, over the past two weeks, a few of my friends up at college have been having an issue with another member of our group, specifically that they found her annoying and frustrating. Rather than telling her outright, they found themselves unable to speak to this individual and instead avoided her, which, incidentally, caused a lot of stupid, unnecessary drama.
Unless it's in a work of creativity, drama is awful. It causes hard feelings for all involved, nothing is solved without a lot of screaming and cursing, and it causes rifts in relationships that could easily be avoided otherwise.
How you might ask? Why, by TELLING THEM THE TRUTH.
Wait, WAIT, don't go. Look, I know this is a kinda crazy idea, but hear me out here. There will always be those people in our lives who we dislike, and we let them know that through our actions towards them. But what about those people who consider you a friend, yet you refuse to correct their opinion? You know who I mean, that guy or girl trailing after you and your friends because they can't seem to find any other place to go.
Now, some would consider it a good thing to befriend them, as they are clearly lost in life. But, if you "friendship" with them is solely based on pity for them rather than an actual relationship, this will only hurt them in the end. You are tricking this individual into thinking that you have their back, that they can count on you to be there for them through the thick and thin. So, when you aren't, they become devastated by it. They are mentally scarred from the abandonment and confused by their sudden loneliness. They can't imagine themselves ever recovering from this, the hurt so tremendous that they can hardly get through the day.
Believe me, I've learned this from experience. I found myself throughout high school, particularly my senior year, alone and confused, broken from being left behind in the dust. I never want anyone else to go through this again, as it isn't a fair thing to have anyone go through.
Now, this concept I propose isn't simply for this purpose, but also for speaking your mind. Everyone seems to have a difficult time telling people how they really feel about them when they don't agree with them or when it's some kind of difficult emotion. But, honestly, you do more harm to everyone involved when you bottle it up; you hold in your emotions, haunted by the baggage you force yourself to carry. Your friends feel your pain as you trudge through life, unsure of what to say or do when you next see this individual in question. And the person in question will presumably figure out what is going on, one way or another, and will be immensely hurt by the fact that you can't be straight with them.
A little while back, I wrote a piece about a friend of mine who essentially abandoned me for reasons still unknown. Yet, instead of approaching me about the issue in question, he simply ignores me. This hurts a thousand times more than if he gave me a reason, as it feels like he looks down on me as a non-existent person, too stupid or unimportant to explain his feelings about me and allow me some form of a peace of mind.
There is a caveat to this, however;  the fact that you need to be comfortable speaking your mind. I get that this is a hard thing to do, that not everyone can get behind. I really do appreciate that. But know that, if for no one else, be straight with me. People are always calling me out when I try to skirt around the shit that is bothering me, so now it's time for me to call all of you out. I'm done causing more harm than good by holding back my emotions. My body can't take it anymore. But I will not become blunt or insensitive, but no stretch (I guess this is a caveat as well). Telling people how you feel is one thing; being insensitive about it is an entirely different, not okay thing that can seriously scar some people.
Look, I know it seems like I'm contradicting myself, and I guess that's because I'm ranting and having a hard time keeping track of all my thoughts. But in the end, telling people honestly and kindly how you feel about them is the best way of retaining a healthy relationship with that individual, while causing as little harm as possible to both yourself and those you care about. It's time for your emotions to take a stand so that we can all better understand one another and be more sensitive towards the feelings that some may have for you.
If there's one thing that has always made me mad beyond belief, it's when I'm being lied to. Now, don't get me wrong, I don't get made over any old lie, like if you're just joking around or if it isn't that big of a deal. But when you outright lie to me about something and I find out about it later, I get really pissed. Chances are you haven't seen me actually mad ever, so I hope this speaks volumes to you. I kind of feel like hiding your emotions from others is like lying to them; you are telling them you feel one way about them, when, in actuality, you feel something completely different for them. I guess what I'm trying to say is that lying sucks; it's hurtful, frustrating, and can ruin relationships. Sure, telling the truth could to, but at least it will be for the right reasons and you won't be living a lie.
Sorry if this has been a bit of a Debbie Downer, but it's something that needs to be said. Love you all, be sure to provide your own thoughts on this, and I hope inspiration will come my way on the morrow!

Somewhere Else

I'm sorry, but I'm not here right now. Please leave my physical being a message, and I'll get back to you ASAP.

Somewhere Else

As my body trudges

and stumbles through the trials of the day,

I find myself in His land again,

floating among his creations.

My mind walks through your forests,

searching under every stone

for Your words of wisdom.

My heart, however,

moves further and further away,

for, just as Your son did,

I have split myself between

those closest to me.

As they walk through

the wide world,

I'm but a stride behind them,

always there if they need me.

If you call for me,

I'll be there,

while everyone else

will go straight to voicemail.

And my spirit,

well it's right here,

on this page, staring you in the face,

loving you for you.

Long ago, I searched

for the words to say

day after day.

Thanks to you,

my life has reason

and purpose,

and I no longer feel alone.

Words can never reflect my gratitude.

Letting It Out

I finally cried again today. It felt so good, letting out all that raw emotion. It's been so long since I've been able to, and I think I've discovered why; it seems that the only time I'm ever able to cry is when I'm alone with my sister and I'm really feeling off. This has awakened me to a lot, and I'm frustrated and hurt by the way we've grown apart over the years. So here's to us, sister; let's never fall apart again.


Tears

I feel all my pain,
my suffering,
my hurt,
my loss,
the nightmares and awful memories,
the pent up frustration,
the cacophony of confusion,
stream down my face,
the raw emotion
pulling at my face and beard,
as if they are not done with me yet,
yearning to torture me some more.
But then there's your shoulder
to snatch them away,
ridding them from my mind and spirit.
You purify my heart
and sooth my soul.

As my shudders and sobs lessen,
I feel like I remember you
from a time long ago,
and I pray that we never lose sight of each other again.

Lightless Night

To walk alone without a light in the world. What's a guy to do?


Lightless Night

Wax drips off my hands
as my candle dies in my hand,
just as I will
in the jowls of darkness.
I look up to the sky in hopes of rescue,
that God himself might guide me
from this hell.
Yet, all that I stare at
is a black blanket,
covering me
so I might partake
in the eternal sleep.
Desperately,
I feel about for someone,
anyone,
anything,
any sign of an existence.

I shudder alone
as my life is extinguished,
my red wax pouring
off my hand

Putting This Into Words...

How is one to phrase something that they don't even understand???


The Unknown

How am I to define
this feeling from within?
A cacophony of emotions
roiling about my body,
or simply indigestion
shaking my stomach to no end?
I look under my skin for the answers,
praying for some understanding,
only to find more problems than I started with.

Is ignorance bliss,
or simply the coward's way out?
I pray that I am not a craven,
that I have the courage to search
and discover these answers.
Yet still I worry
over the hurt that may come.

I Just... Don't Understand

Confusion ensues wherever I may go, even in the holiest of lands.


Why?

He held the holy grail once.
Fancied for himself, I guess.
He enjoyed holding it,
marveling at it's radiance,
it's beauty,
the kind, caring features
etched across it's surface,
there for all to see.
And in a flash,
he was done with it,
tossing it aside like yesterday's garbage.
He makes me ill to look at,
to speak to,
to even contemplate,
someone who would be so careless
with something so precious.
Something I had always wanted,
but could never attain.
Yet now it returns to him
again and again,
unable to tear itself away from his grasp.
Why must you,
the greatest treasure of all,
subject yourself to such heartless cruelty?
Why, when I'm right here,
at your beck and call,
when I would do anything at all
for you?

As he caresses you,
my tears cling to my eyes,
but refuse to let go.

Stomach Cramps

*Sigh* Just when I think I have it all sorted in my mind, life throws me a curveball, and it seems to have hit me right in the gut.


Stomach Cramps

I look out into the valley,
seeing nothing but a pit of darkness,
mimicking the hole in me,
mocking my pain.
I have no choice but to slide into the shadows
with my brethren,
sharing our burdens.
The birds caw, the wind rustles.
Their condolences, though sweet,
are much too soon,
simply adding to the ache building up
in the pit of my stomach,
the frustration and anger
clawing at my insides,
making me want to heave.
But I hold my emotions in my gut,
not wanting to cause nor show pain
to those whom I care too dearly for,
to those I swore would never feel hurt
by my own doing.
I find that I am blue, both inside and out,
my lips and teeth coated with my sorrow.
I try and wipe it away,
clean myself of this horrid feeling,
only to find that it has simply
become a part of me.
There is no getting rid of it now.
And yet I can't embrace it as my own
and give up all hope.
I've already cut myself
with the double-edged sword.
If only the wound would heal
instead of festering day after day,
consuming my very being.
Perhaps one day
this hurt will grow tired of my company
and leave my side
to torment another poor soul.
But, until that day,
I'll carry my hurt like a badge.
For it took many trials and tribulations
to get to this point,
and I've found something amazing.
And though it may not have been
the target I was aiming for,
I still shot a bullseye.

God's Land

To Johnsonburg I have returned, and it's wonderful.


In God's Land Again

It's been too long, God.
Too long since your whispy, green fingers
reached for my shoes,
too long since you whispered to me,
ruffled my hair,
since you took me in your thin,
rough arms that reach down from the skies
to welcome me into your land.
I've dreamed of the day
I could lie down in your sea of hands,
waiting for you to pick me up
and carry me away from the world
into this Garden of Eden.
And now I'm here, and you don't disappoint.

As I float into your embrace,
I find that your caress feels like the fluttering wings
of thousands of hummingbirds
as they search for a place of peace
to rest their from their steadfast flight.

You Mean the World to Me

Today, I was really scrambling for what to write. That, to a degree, worries me, since I, hopefully, will have many more posts to make in the distant future. However, tonight, out of nowhere, I got the chance to have an amazing 2 hour long conversation with my best friend. And the amazing feeling that I have now, so soon after the conversation, really speaks out to how much it meant to me. And I'm under the impression that it meant a lot to this other individual as well, which is really amazing. Because most of the time I find myself feeling alone in this world, surrounded by those who don't understand me, and would rather not put the time and effort into doing so. I lie down in bed so nights, wondering who are really my friends and which of them simply don't care. But now I really know that there is someone out there who genuinely cares. And that... that just means everything to me. It really does.
So this goes out to you, amazing person. Keep being awesome, and your life should be a grand adventure.


You Mean the World to Me

I walk through life
with my head down,
staring at my two feet,
shoulders slumped,
my eyes crying pain,
my heart pumping confusion,
frustration filling my lungs with every breath.
No helping hands,
no words of comfort;
the world just moves on without me,
leaving me behind
as most my so-called friends will.
My hardships weigh down on my back,
pushing me into the ground.
Yet, as I cough up the rocks and rubble,
I hear your voice from far away,
calling out to me,
letting me know you're there.
And, suddenly, everything is right in the world.
I take a deep breath of fresh air,
my lungs filled with the scent of your hair,
and I feel myself rise,
a phoenix,
a fiery strength pushing me on,
encouraging,
helping me to see the world for the first time.
My eyes are clear now,
my heart filled with joy,
my mind at peace,
my life meaningful
and more than simply bearable.

I take a step towards the newly awakened sun,
feeling that I have been roused from my own sleep
for the first time in years.

Freedom

Sometimes, a nice walk around midnight, just you and your thoughts, is just what you need.


Freedom

*Step*
       *Step*
              *Step*
                     *Step*
                            *Step*
Trudging down street after street,
I feel the burden on my back weighing me know,
a book bag of responsibilities,
holding lengthy leaflets,
tedious texts,
an endless stream of stressful studies.
Sadness and heartache
also find their way within,
stretching out across my binders,
as everything becomes a reminder.
But, every now and then,
on a night like tonight-
          *THUMP*
I stretch my arms,
the wings of a freshly reborn butterfly.
I cherish the air flowing through my lungs,
fresh with freedom.
I know I will have to return
for all my unfinished business.
But tonight
the world beckons me,
and I respond gladly,
a wild smile stretched across my face.

A Heinous Crime

If there is one heinous crime one can do unto another, it is to ignore their very existence. I have felt this pain many a time, today being one of them. I write this letter in hopes of sending it to a certain someone one day in the near future.


The Letter

Dear He-Who-Once-Claimed-My-Friendship,
How have you been?
Life treating you well?
...
So. You're not going to say anything, are you?
Well, I'll take this time to explain a little something to you.
Just because you refuse to hear my breath,
see my face,
and recognize my very being in this world
does not make it so.
I have tried,
oh so tried,
to be your faithful friend,
and yet you throw my offers back in my face,
cold with contempt.
Why?
Why do you pretend that I am not here?
Let me clue you in, sir.
You cannot get rid of me simply by pretending I'm not there.
Here I am,
in your face,
in this letter.
So don't presume to tell me
that I am not.
The next time you see me,
I  hope you see me.

Sincerely,
A Lost Friend

P.S. I hope you find me one day

To Be or Not to Be Yourself

If there's one motto I hold close to my heart in life, besides those concerning the ideas of love, it's to always be yourself. Because when you pretend to be something you're not, you not only try to fool others, but moreso yourself; you can never be something that you are not, that much is for certain. And to fight that is to fight God him/herself, and all of what he/she stands for, which is, in fact impossible.
Consider it from this stance; if you are trying to be a hipster, and you've got all the clothes or swagger or whatever, but, deep down, you really aren't that sort of person, you find that you're personality is that of someone else who tries and wishes to be a hipster. You get what I'm saying?
I use this particular example because, when waiting in line for some free Rita's desert today (38 minute wait... ug, so not worth it), there were these high schoolers standing in front of me and my group of friends. I wasn't really paying them any mind, but my friends claimed that he was something of a poser, attempting to put on this facade as a hipster.
Now, I don't condone the concept of judging others for being or not being of some particular group (the idea kinda pisses me off actually), so the complaints of these individuals sort of brought to mind a thought that sort of changed my perspective of the idea I presented above; who's to say this individual hasn't changed, or is trying to change himself for the better? Who's to say that some life-altering event hasn't recently rocked his world and caused him to question just who he is? And who are we to judge whether someone is from one stereotype or another? Or, for that matter, why must we judge one another according to stereotypes? The whole concept, to be frank, is rather absurd, and partially frightening, for if we simply judge one another according to those standards, we are certain to miss some really amazing things that people have to offer.


Judging a Death Sentence

I'm done looking down on you
like a father on his deformed babe,
repulsed and disgusted by the thing it sees
rather than the person who dwells within,
the beautifully innocent newborn
who has yet to take his first steps,
has yet to speak for the first time,
has yet to love someone so inexplicably,
so passionately that nothing can ever change the feeling he gets
whenever he is around her, thinks of her, speaks her name.
He has yet to feel the willingness to die for her,
unquestioning, instantly if need be, and without remorse.
He has yet to experience all that the world offers.
Yet, alas, he is left out in the cold,
with the crumpled newspapers and the burning trashcans,
crushing his life before it even starts and setting it ablaze.
And why?
Because of a hateful man
who could not imagine greatness
ever coming from anything
that looked like THAT.
So misshapen,
malformed,
disgraceful,
grotesque,
a mockery of humanity.
He couldn't imagine the amazing future
this child would have had.
The future in which he became an internationally recognized scholar,
the future in which he had a wonderful wife and two fully functioning children,
the future in which he saved his own father's life-
But, the candle has been snuffed out,
the melting wax pooling on the ground of the cold streets
bright red with rage over the mishandled life
gone before it's time.

As the dogs lap at the chilled, scarlet stream,
they howl in pain and mourning,
tasting the hatred and sorrow on their tongues.
Raising their bright eyes to the sky,
tears slide through their fur,
creating a rain quite fitting
for the boy's burial
in his grim, gloomy grave.

So Many Voices...

So, I had a really awesome conversation this afternoon with a few great friends who I haven't had the chance to talk to in a long time (you know who you are), and they all seemed to have some sort of advice for me. And, though I appreciate all that was said (some of it definitely needed to be said), I realized how reliant I've become on other people's advice about things I'm not fairly familiar with.
And it scares the shit out of me.
I mean, though I love you all and appreciate all that you have to say to me, that you're looking out for me and have my best interests in mind, I need to realize that, to be able to live life to the fullest, I should be able to make these decisions for myself. Don't get me wrong, all of what you guys said really got me thinking and made absolute sense, and by no means am I dissing or negating your advice. All the same, it got me thinking...

The Voices in My Head

Like an owl,
I spin my head,
searching for who called out to me,
but no one's there.
Confused, I turn frontwards,
finding your face floating in front of me.
I jump, startled, yet pleased all the same.
I reach out for a hug, but find myself grasping at words,
floating through my fingers and into my ears,
filling me with the knowledge of the wise.
I thank you, and make as if to leave,
when there you are,
and you,
       and you,
              and you,
                     and you,
                            and you,
                                   and you,
                                          and-
Now you've surrounded me,
many friendly faces,
yet the words, they rip at my ears,
the conflicting opinions at war in my head.
My head bulges, threatening to-
             CrAcK
And out crawls a creature,
not of my creation,
but of the many around me,
those whom I love and cherish.
So why does this being mock me so?
Why does it ooze all over my thoughts,
and try to take over?
My head grows to heavy to hold up,
pulling me to the ground,
I'm helpless now to the thoughts of thousands,
all groping me like a needy lover,
trying to consume me whole.
I cry out, but the chants
echoing from my skull
drown out all intelligent words,
becoming a mindless ambiance of good intentions,
a monstrous cacophony.
I'm surprised you can even-
DTRFYDGJSWKLHDUILAKNFDBSAJLKBKSAJLNKJSAKJCNNSLBNAKLBCBDSKJABCKJBSAKJCBJKSABCABSVCBHABDBSAHCDBNSUIAFHDIUSABHFDBSHAFBDHABSJKFBDAGSFDKASGFGDKSAHUUIEWQYRUITWQRHEHWQIONDMLKNABFDKSAGUYDSBVCJADBSCJHDBSKJBHADBSFHADBSFDHSBFJDABSHBFHADBSFJKDASFDSABFHDBKSAJFBHDBASHBFHDABSFJDBSBFDJKSBAFADBSFDBSAJBFDFKJADSBFJKABFKLQWEOIUOUIOQREPQYI-


CRASH


I barely escape it's clutches,
running for cover
as it rampages,
thrashing and crying out,
lurching from side to side,
urged on by an unsoothable rage.
Without a second glance at me,
it launches itself into the world,
looking for fresh prey.
If you seen this creature,
be warned;
Do Not Approach.
If handled incorrectly,
it can cause madness,
swelling of the head,
nausea,
heart burn,
or general over-analysis.
You Have Been Warned

Relearning to Cry

As of late, I've come across a horrible discovery; I can't cry.
I don't know why, I don't know how this has happened, but no matter how hard I've tried I just... can't. It is frustrating beyond explanation.
So, in the below poem, I attempted to express this feeling. However, what came out of it is something much different. Though my aim was different, I still think that the results are reflective of my thoughts on life sometimes.

Drowning In Tears

A cry out for air,

yet, as I cannot breathe,

no one can hear me.

I float on my back,

waiting.

Waiting.

Waiting.

For someone, anyone,

to respond.

My own eyes have betrayed me,

dammed and damned,

mocking me as life leaves me

to the fishes.

As they eat my face,

feasting on my sorrow,

I thank God

that in my last moments

I was worth something to this world.

That I had a purpose,

if only for a moment.

The Beginning of the Middle

Hey all.
If you don't know me... how'd you come across this anyway?? But welcome, welcome. My name is Luke Muench, just another freshman in college, specifically Moravian College. English major with a creative writing focus, psychology minor. Surrounded by those who claim they care, but turn their backs the moment I look away.
If you are one of the few who have been invited to this, congratulations; I love you, ever so whole heartedly. You are the people who allow me to feel whole, and give me a reason to keep living.
That being said, my good buddy (who I've invited to this; you know who you are) encouraged me to start a blog with all of my writings. I've been going through some emotional turmoil for the past couple of weeks, and I needed a release of all that stress and turmoil that is exploding from my chest every time I breathe, every time I think. I think this poem sort of encapsulates how I'm feeling. I hope you enjoy, be sure to provide feedback, witty comments, or whatever you want to say.

Rumblings

Breathing becomes hard as I push onwards,
charging past door after door,
searching for an exit, some means of escape.
Fear rises, like the bile rising in my throat,
as the thundering behind me rumbles louder
LoUdEr
LOUDER
Fright pushes me forward through the twisting, turning corridors.
I pray for it all to come to an end,
so that I might rest, and stop to pain in my soul for a minute, a second, a moment.
Yet, my poor choice of words is the death of me,
for they spring from my mouth, tying me up,
shackles of mine own creation.
Before I can react to this, my heart drops,
as they rush around the corner behind me, coming into view;
My Thoughts
A crowd of belligerent monkeys, they crow and shriek
at the sight of their prey, trapped and helpless.
I struggle vainly against my self-made bonds,
when, suddenly, they are upon me,
tearing, ripping, gnawing at my very being.
And what can I do, but allow myself
but to be consumed by my own queries and dreams?
They trudge away, leaving streaks of pain and frustration etched on the hallways of my mind,
along with a sad sack of skin.
A human shell, weary from sleepless nights and distracted days,
from running time and time again to no avail.
I know they will return soon enough;
the thrill of the haunt will drive them back for more.
So, I, bedraggled and depressed, curl up where I lay
in hopes of some rest before they return.

If only she were here-
In the distance, the rumbling of thunder commences again,
matching the rapid beating of my heart.