untitled... until one rears its face

Poetry to me is a way to release, yet disguise what I'm thinking and feeling. For a long time, I wrote because I wore a mask and hid the real me from everyone... including myself. Wordplay allowed me to dance around reality... a reality I avoided for various reasons (shame, anger, frustration, fear, to name a few).

"Staring into the void

I catch myself again and again

its darkness is haunting, but mesmorizing

Simultaneously pulling and pushing

I ebb and flow in response

The blackness erodes the world it touches

and as a result, the edge is closer than ever before

Each new day teases the urge

Each setback is another nudge

Could anything be worse than the daily sadness

Would the vacuum suck it all away

Or has misery had similar notions

Discarding it's remnants and polluting the afterlife

thus erasing the possibility of escape"

As the clumsy steps made way to dips and twists, I found I had a knack for mincing and melding words that I never knew I had. So, not only did I find a way to release stress and tension, I also found a way to foster creativity I sensed under the surface... but couldn't find an avenue for.

"Love is a demon I've come to hate

It teases my heart and spits in my face

Come here fool, see what I've brought you

a time bomb with feelings, meant to arouse you

open your heart and the countdown begins

it senses your lust, willingness to give in

When it rips you to shreds, don't be surprised

its actually the bastard love in disguise"

Like so many things, this bit of self-discovery had a sharp edge that cut when touched. As I attempted self-therapy on myself, as well as nurtured my newfound creativity, I caught myself trying to sink deeper to get closer to "reality".

Thankfully, I caught wind of everyone else's reality and saw that there were some obvious differences and stopped to wonder why my "reality" was full of dark days and bottomless pits and to others it provided daily reasons to wake up... with smiles nevertheless.

"A morning will come when I no longer run

i'll wake and greet everyone i pass

maybe they'll smile and maybe not

could be monday or friday, 1st or 31st

nothing will matter but the fact i'm alive

that day will come and i'll enjoy every breath

each moment as it occurs and not a second later

enough has been spent ruminating the past

so much wasted on the myth called maybe

yesterday's practice

tomorrow's a dream

take what you know and

make someday today"