Keep The Lights On

I love the way
your skin feels
like a one-liner
I’ve heard before

How your eyes
sat in front of me
like iron bars, your
soul, the gatekeeper
How I could peer into
something so pretty
that I could only
call it magic
If I looked in the mirror,
I’d call it crazy

The lights in this
room are too bright
for me to take you
anywhere but here
and maybe I like it
that way

Because I’m still trying
to say your name right
like a small town
I’ve never heard of, and
I’m just an outsider
looking for air, feeling
the breath slip from me

I am cinderblock sweat
You are the living room
furnished the way you felt
in my arms, I’ll keep you
comfortable, but
I don’t want to sleep

Hey followers

Sorry I’ve been atrocious at writing with any sort of regularity. I’m just trying to get through school, work, and track season at this point. I want my focus to be on those things, and since I only have a few months left, I’m hoping that I will get back to writing soon enough.

Urrrrrgh.

Untitled (Edit)

On the backbeat of a stolen bus
ride, the air felt static,
he could feel the outside breeze,
light as the body
after a good night’s sleep
Sitting on tattered fake leather,
gripping the iron bar standing
upright like the spine of a rising sun
The people around him
staring at the ground, 
eyelids struggling to stay
awake, whatever they were listening to
was drowning them slowly

The concrete
rumbled beneath, each block
traveled felt like a front door
flying open, these were
oceans he was crossing,
hours his mind
flossed itself for conquest. 
He clenched
the bus pass
like a prescription
Watching the buildings
disappear from his window view
like pages in a history textbook
he couldn’t help
but think of fall,
of trees humming
and red leaves
and how pretty people look
outside when it’s too cold 
for flip flops.

His lips crack open,
silence with gusto
He didn’t have a name for it
The way the heart stops
wasting it’s time with a hunger
for knowledge
but it tasted sweet
like honey from God’s bees
Righteous as an empty mailbox
All that one knew in this moment
was enough

The bus stops, the doors swing open
His lips close, feeling around
his pockets for an empty
pill bottle, he stepped off the bus
tipped his baseball hat
to the driver, the pharmacy
welcomed him in
But nothing ever helped him
except the feeling 
of movement

(Comments, suggestions are appreciated)

Untitled

On the backbeat of a stolen bus
ride, the air felt static,
he could feel the outside breeze,
light and kinetic. Sitting
on a tattered, fake leather
seat. The people around him
staring at the ground,
eyelids lay low.

The concrete
rumbled beneath, these were
oceans he was crossing.
These were hours his mind
flossed. He clenched
the bus pass
like a prescription
Watching the buildings
disappear from his window view
like history, he could not help
but think of fall
and red leaves
and how pretty people look
outside.

His lips crack open,
silence with gusto
He didn’t have a name for it
The way the heart stops
wishing to know within a moment
but it tasted sweet
like honey from God’s bees
Righteous as an empty mailbox
All that one knew
was enough in this moment

The bus doors open
his lips close, feeling around
his pockets for an empty
pill bottle, the pharmacy
welcomed him in
But nothing ever helped him
except the feeling
of movement

I feel like I can’t write.

I think I’m just going to start writing nonsense.

I also need to use my journal more.

Urgh

Conduct

Freedom
is the bell
Its silence
keeps our legs
crossed, our
asses down,
staring forward
at bullshit
on a whiteboard

Bells,
these days
don’t have strings
to pull, we just
wait for its voice

While a skinny
pair of legs,
shoelaces
half-undone,
t-shirt half
tucked in,
hair cropped
like a crumpled
report card
stood up
like an oak tree

His classmates
checked their
sneakers
and makeup
He asked to use
the restroom
and never
came back

master-remus:

vigilantespanties:

Fred Rogers Acceptance Speech - 1997

One of the hallmark of a great man is being able to say everything, literally everything you need to say within the allotted acceptance speech time limit, and still make the entire audience feel special.

If Y/you’re old enough to have watched his show as a kid, you know the reasons why this needs to be on My blog.

–Master Remus

The man.

(via andthenilookedback)

Sunrise is birth. Sleep is death. Each day is your life.

Paddle Whispers, by Douglas Wood

If your dream ain’t bigger than you, there’s something wrong with your dream.

Deion Sanders