Eyes

I spent some minutes with the mirror today.
Not trying to control my hair
Or primp for an outing.
Just me,
With nothing but my face.
I looked at my eyes
for the first time in a while.
Really looked into them
and tried to figure out what was going on
behind the traitorous orbs.
They've been greener lately.
I knew something was up.
You may be thinking this sounds strange,
But it makes sense to me.
If you are getting to know someone,
Eyes are so important.
They flash with emotion.
They are the window to the inner us.
So when I am trying to find me,
I talk to my eyes
And see what they do.
Talking to ones self is considered crazy by most.
Or at the very least pathetic.
But you  know,
I need to know myself
If I want to know others.
If I don't know who I am in my own eyes
Then I end up caring too much
Who other people think I am.
What I found wasn't disturbing.
It wasn't exciting.
It was just...
Me.
And I missed Me.
So I smiled.
And I liked my smile
Because it was real.
It was like seeing an old friend.
I'm going to remind myself
To get to know mysself more often.

Standing Minsunderstanding

April 1, 2013

I feel a little empty.
The time,
That extra space
You made
When you scooted over
Just a little closer.
When you'd look at me
Like you were looking at something new.
You opened your mind
And your past.
You showed me your scars
I showed you mine.
You crashed into
My thoughts,
Making me believe in good.
Making me believe in me.
The long ago wrong
Shrank.
All this space in my chest,
I feel it now.
I didn't feel it then.
As it all shifted, and you moved in,
It was so subtle.
But so definite at the last.
No mushroom cloud,
No explosion,
Not a bullet hole,
Or bang.
Just poisonous words seeping in silently
Until the thin veil of non reality
Had dissolved.
It didn't matter.
None of it.
There was no beginning,
No end.
Just a misunderstanding
Of where I was standing.
No fallout,
No breaking.
Just a little ache
Where you made room for yourself,
But never showed.

February Isn't Forever

January is drawing it's sweetly slow lines
to a close.
February's bitter wind is sweeping in
too close.
I want to rewind and remind myself
that it wasn't always this way.
I want to remember that somewhere behind me
there are memories not tarnished
with the blue ink of time.
The same
though different this time.
How do I hold onto hope
with pain seeping through the cracks of my
 healing wounds?
I've come so far
but it's with me still.
keeping a few steps behind
but never leaving me alone.
I can swing my arms and whistle the tune of june
while still knowing that night comes
and the warmth of the sun isn't always there.
Long distance has gotten old.
Arms are much warmer
then 30 year old paper and pen.
February isn't forever. I know.
I just wish January was. 

Grey Wind

I wrote this over a month ago, and just found it in a jounal.

 11-9-12 
Come follow mw
into the colors we've never seen.
so closely.
Chase me and run
head first into nothing that is familiar.
The grey wind is shaking my family tree
Strong and fierce as I've ever seen
tearing pieces away...
But stand under it with me.
Under the cascading orange and red leaves
a cool rain of fire
we can dance in
and never be burned.
Come follow me
after the vivid storm is calmed
and blue white ice
covers the ground.
It's hard, so don't let me fall alone.
Don't be unsure of me.
Don't take me away only to leave.
I have been left shaking before.
Darling, when the grey wind comes for us
don't let go.

12-15-12

I've found it.
The subtle sway of time and reality
across the worn wooden floor of the world.
I caught it.
The sweetly secretive glance
no one but myself saw.
I wished it.
For only a moment and a half
to be there.
I kept it.
That memory of tall grass
under sticky sunlight.
I'm lost again.
Vying for validation here
where I don't fit the mold.
I can't hear.
The screams for attention
fall on my deafening ears.
I'm thirsty.
A growing soul
in a rock garden world.

I'm Not Me

Call me skitso. This is written to both side of me who often get into arguments about who I am becoming. 

12-8-12
I wish I could throw myself to the wind
and let her take me where she wills.
away from the expectation and plans.
Away from the eyes always watching
ever sliding up and down me
and my life.
I wish I could take for one moment
my own ideas and self
and instill in them
strength,
enough to last the winter.
For winter's cold harsh icyness
will give my sureless self
a testing blow.
Blow, the winds can and will.
Break me, they may try.
I'm not who I am!
I'm hodgepodge and jacked.
cracked and scarred.
What else did you expect?
I'm not sure what I want,
but I know what I don't.
My reflection lately has been hazy and unclear.
Are those my eyes, or just stars?
Are these my hands,
or tools of another man?
My fashion and taste
doesn't fit a type.
The words I say and how,
may not be restricted to a locale.
I like Diet Coke and lipstick.
I like being alone, but I get lonely.
Who is behind my mind, telling me what to read?
Who cares?
I'm going to be me,
because I'm not you.
So as far as you are concerned,
I'm not me. 

Give Me A Hand

Take a walk with me, would you please?
A short one as far as I can tell.
Just walk me to the gate of memory's lane
and leave me there.
I don't want to tread fast, or far...
Remind me I'm real.
That unaware was real
not reality.
That I've had a past.
That what my mind recalls
actually happened
once upon a time.
I'm not asking for very much,
understand,
I can't do it alone.
I just need a hand
to hold mine tight
in that moment when
darkness falls and I want
to turn back.
Don't say a word,
just keep me walking.
Don't whisper anything sweet,
just keep me walking.
Don't kiss my hand or cheek,
just keep me walking.
You can't follow me past there,
it's my own way to go.
Just give me a hand.