Somehow I find it graspable
That maybe I could be okay
And not be
The message is quite common
That perfection is impossible,
And you don’t need to achieve it.
But somehow not
For me.
It feels sort of like
I drew the short straw,
So I’m the one who ended up believing in
Not only as a possibility, but as an
A special one.
Just for me.
And it’s hard-
Trying to do the ‘impossible’,
Crying when you can’t.
But not today.
Somehow, I always knew it wasn’t maintainable,
Long term – a childish game.
So why not now to outgrow it?
Why not now to learn how not to be
I choose today.
So many things happening now
-And all of them are so
This will drastically alter my life,
But will it?
History is always being made,
But what will this really be?
Some random name in a textbook?
Will it even make it
That far?
Movement, music, light
Life rushes by
But slowly.
Troubles are left behind
And in rhythm and motion
And light
I am whole
I need to vent.
Beaches, sunshine, flowers,
Sleeping in, vacationing,
Preparing for a long year of school?
Yeah, right.
School work, studying,
Going places, doing stuff,
Always something else to
And you know what?
I’m sick of it.
I’m tired of always doing things for other people.
I’m tired of going nonstop.
Or, if I’m not,
Feeling guilty because I
Should be.
There are things I want to do too,
You know.
Write, draw, dream, learn Italian.
Be young, just because I can.
If I still can.
They say that this is the best time of my life
And all I can say is
Oh, God, I hope not.
Do you know those times when
You get that feeling
That you have no idea whatsoever
What you’re trying to say?
No, that’s not it.
How to phrase it.
You speak,
Words emerge
And yet they have no meaning
-that anyone understands.
Understands correctly.
Then you began to gesture
Wildly as you talk with your hands,
Seeing as how your mouth has failed you.
Finally, spluttering out vague concepts, you ask:
Do you get what I’m trying to say?
Blank pages,
Fascinating in their crisp white splendour,
Call to me.
Endless potential!
Anything in creation
Could be written here.
The perfect poem,
That final story,
The hidden truths of reality!
And so,
I am afraid.
To put pen to paper
And sear one pathway into the surface
Of reality.
I am loathe to banish
Those limitless potentials
And replace them with merely one;
A lonely reminder
Of lost possibilities
Inspiration is that flash
Of brilliant energy
When you know what to do
And you need, must
Get it out,
Record it,
Show it to others
No matter what it takes.
You pursue your goal
-Your vision!
You can rest once more.
Wake Up
It is morning
Sun shimmers through an open window.
The world is awake
But barely
Here, there is warmth
Why move?
The world can wait
Until noon

The Promise
A fragile promise, soon blown by the wind,
but a promise all the same.
Is it one I will keep?
I think I shall, for there seems no other way.
No other way to keep you with me,
No other way to keep you near.
And so my promise must be kept,
And spoken out for you to hear.
As the sun moves along its path, Following the horizon,
So I must find a path to follow you.
And so; I will keep a promise.
One to me, and one to you.

I will Come For You

(written for Language Arts class in eighth grade. Not about anyone in particular)
On a day when the sky and the earth are in harmony,
and the ocean is orange in the sunset,
I will come for you.
When the symphony of life and death keeps playing for eternity,
There is a song that will play through the dark,
And it will lead me to you.
After the dark is over, the sunshine will come again,
and as it tells it’s story I will come to you.
The melody of life can be amazing,
And there are times when it intoxicates you,
But I will come.