Bubbly.

I just like that word, "bubbly". It has nothing to do with anything, but I was thinking about it.

I can never get my thoughts together. They never seem to connect. They never seem to make sense and THAT I am truly aware of. I really have no explanation for some of the things I write…most of the things I write. So…don’t expect this one to be any different. I’d describe my mind like a film – stills in motion flashing on screen, leaving on cue, lingering in your mind because you don’t understand what just happened in front of you. Did that even make sense? I don’t know, but it’s like that. I don’t know why, but it is. I always thought I had some sort of a chemical imbalance in my brain because of the things I thought of and the way they would be painted. Who knows? The things I see with my third eye are always distorted. I can imagine, but my imaginings are always sketches, scribbles of rough notes. I can only see myself clearly there. I wonder why I can’t see myself clearly here, outside of myself. When I look in the mirror, I haven’t a clue of who I should be or what I should do. I don’t make sense, really. I can’t understand myself, but I know myself. Maybe I just know everything I’m not and not everything I am. Hmm. Let’s dive…
I think I like to write things, things that I sense with my body, things that I create with my mind. I love the idea of words coming together to tell a story in the most uncanny ways. I love how the little things can create big things. I’m not one for technique or form, but I can dig a sense of honesty any day of my life. That’s what I love about writing. That’s what I love about music – how thoughts and feelings can be expressed through wordless sounds. I love how people can say so much by saying so little. In four minutes, a time can be told, a story can be heard. I love music. I love writing. Jazz is a music form that I adore dearly because of its freedom yet complicated technique. Complex simplicity is my delight I guess. Sound is key. For things to come together they have to sound right; not in the literal sense, but in the sense that there’s some kind of flow. That explains my need to constantly look up words and expand my losing vocabulary so that I make things sound right. But maybe I’m being too complicated? Maybe I’m trying to make something come to life that simply isn’t. I mean, I’m trying to fit this mould of a writer, because that’s what I think I’m good at. But I don’t know. Am I really good? Who’s to say? No fishing, I hate that. Fool’s gold only sits in that ocean. But what do I do with this thought? I want to make sense of it all, but I don’t know how. I’m lost at sea, trying to be a person other than me, and what I just can’t see, is me being me. I like being me, I love being me, so why am I always trying to run free? Why can’t I simply be? Live for today and tomorrow will come hopefully? I just can’t see this light in front of me. Simply believe? We’ll see. I try to keep my own pace, let others do as they please, but I can’t seem to shake this question at sea.

CHASER.

I chased the sunset
Down the narrow road alone
Following the distant glow of light
Glimmer of tranquillity
Leaving the past behind me
I chased my love with eager to escape for good
Smiling with the gentle wind
Flying so high in my blissful mind
Above time’s anxious hands
I chased the sunset
Colliding with the shadow of the sky
It casted darkness over my eyes
Coldness through my body
The sunset, my sunset of calm
Descending into the horizon
Slowly departing from my gloomy eyes
But I still chase the sunset with a wish
With a need to be near
To escape
In love.

A Sugary Memory

I thought about you today. I was sitting in my room with my feet up, staring at the thorny looking white wall above me.
Wonder was running miles in my mind for a while…
We used to be friends. We were cool for a minute, walking through the same hallways and meeting the same people. Sometimes I’d pass you in one of those hallways while you were passing me, slowing down my pace as you inched closer to my being. You forever made me nervous. I couldn’t look into your eyes for a long time. My hands were always clammy when I saw you, even from afar. Whatever were to happen, I just hoped you wouldn’t shake my hand. When I did see you, we always exchanged those smiles, those elusive smiles, you and me. But the hugs were always obvious story-tellers. I thought you were unlike the people surrounding me or you. You were different, mysterious, and had the eyes to match. So…I never knew how to read you.
I remember how we always used to go the same way from school, east towards another sunrise. You’d tell me things, I’d tell you things – sweet things, funny things, weird things, cool things. We didn’t say much to each other outside of those things, though. I was quiet and you were lively. But we still kind of matched.
Later in the year though, I found something out. I became apprehensive about even talking to you because of this something. It wasn’t a bad thing. It wasn’t a cruel thing. It was just one of those complication things. It changed things between us, you and I. I knew what it was, but you didn’t. I wanted to say something. I wanted to tell you how I felt. I wanted to let you know. But I didn’t. We drifted apart from there. I went right and you went left. Those smiles became straight faces and quick sharp glances. I looked down to avoid you. You looked over me. It was like amnesia slowly came to town. I lost sight of who you were, and that was my fault.
I forgot about you for a while, but I’d see you again. I’d see you again very often. No words were exchanged, only glimpses. I wanted to start over in a way, but I didn’t know how. It had been years since the last time I saw you. What do I say? I don’t know. Not too long ago I was looking for a room somewhere on the second floor, and you were right there, walking in front of me with someone else. I didn’t notice until I turned around on instinct. My hands weren’t clammy.
So I thought about you today. I thought about what could’ve been. I’m that kind of person. I wondered what we would be like if we still talked, if we were still friends. I don’t know, but I’ll wonder sometimes, like I did today.

Into Everything.

Fly beyond the sky

Into loving with no lights

Just stars, you and I...

No Shoes.

I walk many miles through fire and stone, barefooted and drained. I have no shoes to walk in. Now, my feet simply drag on behind me. As the sand falls, life leaks through my body, through the holes in my soul. I carry the weight of what seems like the world on my back since it cannot see my face; it hates it and so I hide it. My hands are wounded because I hold onto heavy rain that never falls through. Who wants to see me? No one, I guess. I am just another infuriating face begging for a chance wearing tainted shades when the sun is out. I am just another someone looking for fool’s gold. I’m just another one. Who wants to see me? No one, I know. I walk into another day everyday, god willing; Everyday with no shoes to walk in, no shoes to try on.