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.