Capsule.

I wish I could capsulize my feelings enough to express the amount of loss I feel in myself on a daily basis, but it seems it comes out more like a hot spring more than anything else.

I am capsized from the feeling of life, but maybe that's what I need.

-M

Hair.

Like the moon its sits on you and sways like the sea on a late evening.

-M

Filtration.

As I stare at the aisles of believers all singing in unison to the praises of God, with anticipation in their hearts and heaviness in their eyes, I begin to surrender.

I surrender emotionally.

Physically.

But mostly, spiritually.

I can beat myself up and listen to the enemy routinely, but when it comes to loving myself and listening to God, you might as well pull up a chair and grab a magazine.

I need to listen to the truth and filter out the lies.

I need to stop focusing on the hurt people do and start seeing the love they do.

I need to let go of past deception and see a fresh plate.

And I need to not forget that relying on humans for happiness is about as useless as a fruit basket. 

-M

Unscripted.

Realizing that my loneliness comes from the lack of accepting the strength in myself, is like trying to bungee jump of a cliff and having the thought of death not swift through your mind. 

I am not comfortable with being alone, but I crave my loneliness more than a new pair of gladiators. 

Should I stop contemplating the outcome and start focusing on the present? 

I write off anyone who wants to love me.

Its starting to pollute more than just my heart.

-M

Thundertoot.

I went to this non-profit creative arts venue last night in DT atlanta called Wonderroot for an open mic in the hopes of making my spoken word debut, however there was words spoken, but not the ones I had in mind.

No entrance fee, which my gal-pal Lucy and I quickly realized the reasoning behind that as soon as the performers took the mat.

Ha, I wish I could teleport you ( the reader) back in time to the scenario, because no adjective could express the pure nature of the venue and its inhabitants, which seems to be kind natured.

However I can tell you this, If you have ever watched american idol auditions and seen the obscurity that makes it's way to our TV tubes then you have an inkling of the majority of performers. 

All you need is a little weed and some lack of showering and you pretty much got the full effect, easily. 

But it wasn't the intense stench or the short-falling of talent that caught my ears, eyes, or nose.

It was the committed performers and the boosterish audience that scraped my insides to the point of questioning my own opinions. 

The community they have at wonderroot is nothing I have really ever seen. 

They support each other rigorously and loudly despite the lack of substance in the performance or the impact it had. 

It was safe for performers and people alike to come and share a piece of their light weight minds and heavy hearts. The majority of the people that spoke, sang or played were not there for the claps or praise, but for the acceptance and fellowship from the community there.  

And the community willingly gave it, and gave it and gave it...etc. HA!

Once my mind got back on track and arrived at a station, I started scanning the room.

Staring at the misfits and schmucks pacing around, some mumbling the lyrics and bobbing their heads, others off in their mind-made universe.

The realization of happiness that came from all the eclectic, yet identical, beings in this basement room froze the very core of my processing and began to redefine itself within this atmosphere.

Besides the drugs, What if happiness doesn't originate with choice but with the identification of ourselves   to trust our circumstances? 

Unfortunately, I know the answer to this, but I couldn't help letting it pull a chair up next to my spiritual logic. 

I felt as though these cracked up, slightly homeless hippies had satisfaction and true happiness and I didn't ( don't). 

I can swirl myself in circles trying to under-analyze, overanalyze or just accept; but the truth is maybe I need to stray away from the norm and figure out the labels myself. 

-M

I see England, I see France, I decided... I need new Pants!

So, tragically, on a sunday summer evening, my favorite black skinny ankle hugging jeans went Kaputs. 

They served me well on many of my co co loco runs and late evening concert bashes, but all good things must come to an end.

You must be wondering why I just wasted 42 words on a pair of urban skinny jeans, Well because its ironic, thats why damnit.

I am on this new medication. The kind where it has 36 different side-affects and you must check in with your psychiatrist regularly to secure your safety. 

It doesn't make me happy but it brings me back to zero, rather than negative five so I can start functioning the way a normal nine-teen year old should be, or so I think they should.

It is my fourth day on it and I feel a difference. I feel like the darkness doesn't feel so dark and that my heaviness feels more like styrofoam instead of bricks.  

Sure there is much more than just a pop of a pill that needs to addressed, but now I can see through clearer eyes while I am driving to that road and I am okay with that.

 So as I am bidding adieu to my leg slimming, butt hugging, black hipster pants I can say "bonjour" to a more processed, revived and cheeky pair of some faded aqua skinnies. 

Cheers to new trousers, ( clink).

-M

Summer Haze.

She fly's back and forth,

like a million different bees,

and the sweetness that she produces isn't the key.

His love that springs up,

 has caught a leak, and formed a clot,

and now can't seem to please,

not even her cold heart.

She watermarks his heart with unwilling ease,

and catches his beats like a stethoscope flea.

His breaking point has no limit on it,

so he tracks behind her,

 hoping the aroma of his words would spread on her,

 like some ivy to a tree.

She nods her head in recognition of his efforts,

but she knows this muscle and the memory it holds,

and yearns for nothing like him.

So they prance around these shaky waters

aiming to exist, 

while keeping one eye closed and the other on the water,

one will sink and one will swim.

-M