lovealostcause

Get out.
Get out.
Get out of my mind.

I’ve tried to stow you away in a box and put you in the attic of my mind.
I’ve tried to forget about it.
Letting it collect cobwebs and dust in the corner of the shelf.
But just when I think it is all okay something drives me to crack open the lid.
But no, I mustn’t.
I can’t allow myself to.

Is it this hard for you?
 

lovealostcause

Though our feelings may bring us together,
they equally present the opportunity
to isolate us.

If you believe that no one feels the way
that you feel, then this will become the
truth for your reality.

And that is a shame.

This leads me to believe that
people feel alone, not because they
actually are, but simply because they
do not know how to let other people

in.

lovealostcause

I dream in technicolor – occasionally

in grey;

surrounded by the furthest

reaches of the

Quiet Place.

Golden stars fall upon my

furrowed brow and the soft wind

whispers sweet nothings in my ears.

I am finally at peace.

My sanctuary, my safe haven,

the Quiet Place –

far from the harsh realities of

life. Into my head I retreat.

In an instant life’s trials and tribulations seem

all too trivial compared to the vastness of

this dimension: my own mind, and

it is all mine.

Anything is possible here.

In actuality, I am small, vulnerable, even at best.

Standing witness to a war where words

are the shrapnel flying

free mad, free target

and emerging unscathed is

anything but easy.

Here, though, here, I am protected.

I am infinite in this

Quiet Place.

The time that I cannot hear you all

is so very nice. Your remarks are nothing,

for I am here, in my

very own Quiet Place where

my thoughts fly free like balloons released

from a child’s shaking hands

accidentally-on-purpose,

and I’ve got a friend in myself

and we walk through the tall grass,

stumbling wildly, chasing butterflies

and thinking aloud… the Quiet Place

is far, far from harm’s relentless grip.

Careful not to trip over the roots

of the great, growing trunk, we

wander on. To think: the majestic

oak was once a miniscule stub,

just barely protruding from the damp earth,

but with every visit, it grows higher, higher –

With every visit, I grow stronger, stronger:

a healing property of the Quiet Place.

Sure of our footing, we

wander on. Time after time we

drink our way through the low, misty

fog over the water,

and with every visit, it becomes clearer, clearer –

With every visit, I gain life, life.

I am rejuvenated at the

Quiet Place.

With the tree of knowledge I share my thoughts,

with the waters of the fountain of youth I recover

from the tragedy that is life, and with this I realize

that this friend I’ve walked with

is only me, another me –

the uninhibited alter-ego living

in the furthest reaches of the

Quiet Place, just begging

for some room to breathe.

(Hello, there.)

I am finally free.

I dream in technicolor – occasionally

in grey;

surrounded by the furthest

reaches of the

Quiet Place.

And here, I am finally home.

lovealostcause

sometimes, i look at the sky and i feel very small.

once, i laid under the stars next to a friend.
we stayed there for as long as we could handle;
the autumn air was cold and unforgiving,
and our elbows bumped awkwardly.
but it was all trivial compared to the
v a s t n e s s of the sky and the stars above me.

sometimes, i find it hard to believe that we're important.
in such a huge expanse of space, how can we possibly be?
it can't be our opposable thumbs, and it can't be our innovations.
(after all, clown fish are pretty ingenious, too.)

and the universe doesn't care about our problems, i realized.
the universe doesn't care about universal health care,
and it doesn't care about struggling artists trying to survive.
it doesn't care about nonconformist trends,
and it doesn't particularly enjoy sitcoms.
to the universe, we're just more inhabitants.

we're just ants in cracks in sidewalks to the universe.

(the sky makes me think about things i don't understand.)

lovealostcause

you've become a distant mist,
a lackluster fog that surrounds me

your vapors envelope me,
but i cannot feel you in my bones.

you hold me in your heart, but if
i'm only holding your heart in my hands,

what is there to win?

lovealostcause

like lost causes, we wander
with our smiles hidden and hearts sore
with dreaming.
eyes wide open, inhaling in cold drafts
and pretending we dissolve snowflakes
in our folded palms. this is
how we breathe in and become

anonymous to ourselves.
because i’ve never felt more alone than now
(swirling in the fumes of your absence,
maybe you’re the dizzy i need
to believe in)

in the rain that trickles salvation
and the endless night holding back its sigh,
i sit on the pavement to cry

for the world never meant to be,
and i'll sing songs,
songs that stretch over an ocean
of stars
and the sad thoughts percolating
over my heart’s brim

to empty my voice
into an echo for redemption.
 

lovealostcause

For now, I feel like I am in a fishbowl. Everyone’s lookin’, but nobody’s talkin’. What a sad existence: to be scrutinized with no comment. Shady glances, and shadier thoughts, but no speech bubbles to fess up.

I’m still not done putting ”x”s in the boxes next to “mood swings” and “inconsistencies.”  I’m always calling it quits, my hands are always shaking. I’m alright, alright, alright, but I’m waiting for everyone to fall asleep so me and the tick of the clock/ the beat of my heart can be alone. When the large portion of the world is awake, I feel like there are too many complications to the wires connecting my heart and my brain.

I know this isn’t making a lot of sense, but sometimes feelings don’t read like instruction booklets.

I’m not faking these smiles, they come naturally, but they have to share a bed with all the troubles my feeble head has worked up. “Sleeping With The Enemy,” or so it would seem.

But hey: thanks for all those late nights during the last 3 weeks, even with the winter chills. I only hope that this break wasn’t some sick dream. I don’t want this to be like the end of the Breakfast Club where there’s the possibility that we’ll all go on our merry little ways and never talk again. I want this to be the beginning of something sparkling and new. I only hope I mean the same to you.