Nothing Places.

I swing on the back porch swing, with the cold autumn breeze circling around me like a whirlpool catching the leaves as I accelerate while I crunch them as they swirl closer to me,then the chains lock above me, and I am still once again. I intended to catch up on some reading and enjoy some fresh autumn air while doing it, however the air had something else in it for me than that. I reached an understanding with myself in regards to my happiness. Lately I feel more quick to anger and slow to understanding, and well happiness can't keep up with either. Happiness is a choice they say, and i believe them, but when I feel like I have to discipline my self to be happy, thats when I buy a ticket to a foreign land and pretend like I enjoy being lonely. It always starts in my head, travels downstream and lands in  the heart which builds up ,from the damns I have made in the past, so then it proceeds to my chest and sits there, rather rests there. My reservoirs aren't as empty as they used to be so the build up tends to be heavier these days, I guess I haven't opened them up as much as I have built new ones. It's hard when I get in those places. It is a mix between mental paralyzation and emotional merry-go-round. the waters drain as they please, but that seems to be taking more and more time lately, maybe it's global warming of the heart, minus the warming.

I sit silently with discretion to minimize the demise of my mind but the weight left too much of a mark for a quick recovery. I don't know how they start, where they empty out into or how to prevent them, but the walls I put up don't hold them down, so for now I will invest in a safety vest and wish for the best. I am tired of these nothing places that start becoming something places. I feel like they are relentless murmurs reminding me of all the unforgiveness I have or the pain that hasn't been looked over yet. I need to learn how to hold my breath longer and none of this would be a problem.

-M

Perks.

The smiths: Asleep.

Enjoy and try not to fall asleep. HA. Had too.

-M

Grief.

-M

Back and Forth.

I couldn't handle the back and forth.

I am sorry I am not sorry,
That is ultimately what you would say to me, Man up and stand next to your words, you opinions, not behind them. Your a coward to your thoughts and a fool to your mind, but only cause' you let yourself.

Not many people can see you the way I did.
You gave that up the day we required being fought for, so you laid down your sword and decided picking daises in the valley sounded safer... No Shit it is safer, but you gave up a life with me, more than that, with yourself and for that I am sad for you and mad at you.

Maybe you will never clean your eyes from all the lies your momma told you, but if you don't you won't be able to see the big picture, the picture you could have painted for yourself, you do that so nicely.

But if you don't all that will be let is an empty frame, with holes carved from nails that were sacrificed but saved for a rainy day.

I couldn't handle the back and forth, so I stopped going back.

-M

Barrels.

I used to sit by the stairs and listen to you play, just to here a familiar melody coming from a familiar face. I never meant any harm when I would hit the alarm just to see your face narrow and your eyes widen from the shock of unfamiliar sounds, but honestly it would scare me first anyways. The sunlight peers from your windowsill while we corroborate about adventures not yet taken and food not yet tasted, you always loved trying new things. Our laughs were synced by the passion streaming inside our veins and humor was in everything it seemed. I would isolate myself to save the trouble of explaining why I truly can't add up, but you would always followed me into those desolate places where much wasn't let in but I let many things out. You loved me tenderly and held me tightly while leaving space for the things unseen but they were felt regularly.Your glasses were thick just like your fist and your heart was soft for me but solid in times of my need.

-M

EastBAY.

Can't find jewels like these at a cheap price, and I couldn't begin to ask for a bargain.
I drove through hills and up hills and around hills, but never could find their names.
I saw tree lines and tree stumps and tree seats, but I never could find their roots.
Fog rushes around me like traffic on a friday evening and horns sound from eager drivers and fear-filled city men that then become aware of the sightless views in front of them.
This city where bridges never end and where hills always descend into segregated neighborhoods or districts I should say, that lead into bays of water and recyclable waste is where the lost ones go to find a their own.
People always say that City's never sleep, well, this one does well into 10:30AM and thats when the coffee shops begin to wake with their lines wrapped around their bay windows and bikers retreat to organic, locally owned breakfast nooks to rest before heading on their way to the hills for their daily ride.

The climate varies from foggy to soggy to sunny but the water crashes onto cliffs of rock that align the coast with  heated hearts and goose bumps from the crisp breeze. I was always one to look for bargains but this was a treasure I found that came at no cost, so I'll settle my bets and one day will head back left to where the bay awaits for my requests.


-M

Diamonds in hammocks.

I walked across this water that you used to sail upon hoping that you would see, and maybe believe, but  all I saw were ghosts that were screaming for more than what the present served.
I could be mistaken but being mistaken sounds better than being afraid or robbed so I will settle my bets and head back east where the water isn't so rough. I let you rob me of my sleep and enter into my dreams because as much as I don't want to make your house a home, I end up reorganizing mine to find room for you. The steeple is our barrier between was is real and what is make believe, but we always loved Harry Potter so why can't we just have a temporary fix to ease this ache that echoes through halls of books written without words because we don't need to read them to understand them. Maybe I do love you, my friend said once that to be able to love, one must show, just like an infant trying to walk.

With charged touch and oval sighs , I walk behind you as a precaution to our electric hands might collide and send shock waves though our audience, but then again who gives a shit. Maybe all our jewels are stored up in heaven but sitting with you in that hammock felt like a diamond in the rough.

-M