Here’s a flashback from many summers ago i’ve been meaning to post. enjoy!

“Feelings are gross”

Why would anyone ever think that?
Maybe she was trying to be cute or something but even then…
How could anyone possibly verbalize even the thought?

From where I stand, it’s lack of feelings that we should be afraid of.

Yet, from a careless, fleeting camp friend, I heard those words escape her mouth after pouring out my entire summer to her. I was naked and vulnerable and…

“it’s better if you don’t have them. You’re so naive”

Yeah, but you’re so jaded. And what are you? Like 12? Seriously.
What? How can mindless intimacy be better? Why numb yourself at such a young age?

How can she achieve such nonchalance in regard to the singlemost important event of my life?

So I brush aside my bangs, laugh and say,

“Yeah, I guess you’ve got a point”, with a carefree smile, and an affirming one from her in exchange, the bond sealed.

when really,
feelings are everything to me.

skyscraping tombstones,

men digging their own graves.

A million symbols -

Stars of David, crosses, what have you -

trying to do something to souls,

to ghosts.

But, where am I looking from?

Am I above it all,

below it all,

within it all?

I am one big mess;

skyscraping hopes,

digging, searching, reaching, staring.

you can drown out noise with music and laughter and words,

cover wrinkles and pimples with makeup,

flood your lungs with smoke, your glass with vodka, plate with food,

hide your thoughts on paper,

punch at your problems in your pillow, your wife,

fill your wallet with money, house with things,

bite your lips, your nails,

tug at your hair,

chew your mouth,

grind your teeth,

hum, whistle,

smack your lips

- you can put some antibiotic ointment on a wound and tightly wrap a bandage around it, but pain is only gone when life is gone.

Why can’t I get this right
The thing that keeps me up at night
Supposedly arrows from up above
Have me deeply fallen in love

Trees sway in the warm summer breeze
Colourful flowers swarmed by bees
But I can find no summarize 
To the playful twinkle in your eyes

I go to sleep with you in my head
And wake up just the same 
So I searched each computer instead 
For the name of your game

Days slowly pass
As I see you in the hall
As I go from class to class
Out I want to call

Just a few days ago
We spoke for the first time
Now i want the world to know
That you are mine

The magical split second
Your hand meets with mine
That one special moment
When our fingers intertwine

This has started to preoccupy
And begun to take over my mind
Nothing that money can ever buy
A love that is so clearly blind

TO BE ON THE WORLD STAGE
IS EVERY YOUNG BOYS DREAM
BOTTOM NINTH BASES LOADED
MAKING THE FANS SCREAM

BUT EVERY CAREER STARTS FROM SCRATCH
LEARNING TO RUN HIT THROW AND CATCH
IN THE STREETS WITH WHAT YOU HAD
OR ON THE FIELD WITH YOUR DAD

BOYS CAN FANTASIZE THEY CAN HOPE
TO GO HIT THAT FROZEN ROPE
THEY CAN QUESTION AND WILL JOKE
ABOUT A GUY WHO IS THROWING SMOKE

SOME WILL KILL THEMSELVES WITH DRIVE
AND IT WILL TAKE OVER THEIR LIVES
NOTHING LESS BUT PERFECTION
MR.RAWLINGS BECOMES AN INFECTION

ALL THAT WORK AND INTENSE PASSION
WILL REPAY IN SHOCKING FASHION
WITH THEIR DAD IN THE STANDS
CHANTING ALONG WITH A MILLION FANS

YOULL BE ASKED AS YOU GROW
SO THE YOUNG ONES WILL KNOW
YELLING AT YOU WITH CARDS AND PENS
THE CYCLE STARTS YET AGAIN

Inspired by “Streets of London” by Ralph McTell.

Loneliness.
The emotion that fills you
When you leave behind your family,
Feel too excluded, too different
To reign in the steady flow of tears.
The staccato breathing, sobbing,
A secret language
That only you can grasp.
You succumb to your
Loneliness.

Your desire for company,
Your need for assurance of
Your place in the world,
Go unheard, unnoticed
In your mind.

Yet, you are never alone.
Your belief in your solitude
Irrational.
Untrue.
Where some have no one,
You have your family,
Your mother’s comforting words.
Your father’s protective nature,
Friends to lean on.

The supports you need
Always in place.
Missing only in your own
Projection of solitude.

While hundreds live without
The warmth of another’s love,
Surviving each day
Truly alone.

So how can you tell me
You’re lonely?