Waiting

I've waited more years then I have fingers on my hands to hear your voice again. But I am not nervous to see you after all this time. 

Because when it comes to war and battles, my heart rate slows to a calm and steady beat. 

Maybe I got accustomed to chaos and the calm that I feel in it. 

I've counted the stitches in my sleeve a thousand times over and the number never changes. The calendar runs the days in the same order every cycle. And the words in your books never change. 

But every day my mind moves back and forth from love to hate. My heart stands on uneven ground that shakes every time You walk into my thoughts. 

Poor

The walls around me are trying to breathe. But it seems I'm taking all the air. My lungs are full but my heart has no beat. My blood is frozen and my veins are laced with Ice. 

The oceans are screaming at eachother. They battle with waves and storms, smashing eachother in a fury we will never understand. I feel that battle inside of my head and I don't know what the outcome is. 

My heart ran away and he doesn't send me letters anymore. I have no guide for my feelings. I have no guide for my actions. 

My knuckles are torn and bloody but I don't feel the sting of pain. My nerves are numb and muted. 

The only thing I long for is to feel life again. To feel blood beat in my heart. And the cold to go away. 

Fire

I can't remember how many times we hiked that same hill, or watched the sun set across the mountains. I can't remember how many times you fell asleep in my car on the ride home. 

I can't remember specific thoughts or even specific conversations. Not one stands out in my memory as something significant or great. 

I can't recall the money spent or the minutes past, Or dates or anniversaries that have past. I don't know the stats or the facts. 

But I can remember the feelings. 

I can remember the laughs and the cries. 

I can remember the feeling of being alive again. The feeling of a heart that not only beat in my chest but a heart that let out feelings. 

I can remember the way the light from the fire rolled across your face and the cracking of the burnt wood. The way your smell mixed with the smoke of the fire. And the way your eyes seemed to get brighter at night. 

I can remember you. You are just a memory now. That's what makes my heart hurt the most. 

Fear

I'm afraid of lightning. 

Its so unpredictable. Lightning chooses to strike at random, constantly touching down at different plots of earth. It burns the ground and leaves the land black and charred. The light is bright and it comes and goes so fast my eye can't keep up with it. 

Then right after the lightning strikes thunder echoes across the land, punishing my ears and breaking the silence that surrounds me. It cracks the earth and makes the ground shake underneath my feet. It spreads until it dies and then waits for another bolt of lightning to bring it alive again. 

I'm scared of lightning and thunder. Both remind me of you. And that's probably why it scares me. 

Real

I knew it was real when I could taste blood in my mouth.

The words we had been yelling weren't real to me, but some how the blood made it real.

The way it went from screaming to punching was quick and unexpected, but also natural. I could feel your knuckles smash into me as I threw fists back at you. And everything seemed slow and quiet in those moments.

My fists never looked the same since that night, the cut skin that bled slowly never healed right. It left little scars and rips that will never go away. I will carry the memory of you for the rest of my life on my hands.

Every time warm blood slips in my mouth I feel the sting of your hand on my cheek. If I could forget about that night I would; but honestly, it's the first time I ever lost a brother.

I don't think I'll ever forget that.

Alive

Feeling my lungs scream for air is how I know I am still breathing. Staying underwater until my vision goes spotty is how I know I can still see. Plugging my ears until I hear nothing is how I know I can still hear.

But you holding me close is how I know I am still living. Nothing makes me more alive like you do.

I could live my life with all my senses in tune, and all my organs performing perfectly. But is that really living?

Cause ever since I met you, living took on a new meaning.

Writing You.

I sat next to the door waiting for you to knock for three weeks straight. You never came. I don't know why it took me so long to accept the fact you were not coming back. But now I just want to understand why you never came.

Maybe you were scared. Or maybe you just didn't want to see me. But I can't forget the days we spent in that city. I won't let the memory of you slip from my mind. But maybe if I did I could live normal again. 

You gave me hope and promised me the world and I believed you. All the bridges I burned for you. All the people I left, you will never even know. 

What if you aren't even real. Just a creation of my lonely mind. I spent the season searching for you, and never found you. I don't know how you seemed so real and close. But maybe you were just lost, and didn't know the way back. And were looking in the wrong spot for me. 

I hope you are real. 

I hope you are looking for me the way I am looking for you. 

Maybe I need to find my self first. 

West.

Finding time to breathe has been hard lately. My mind constantly is drifting to that small lake high in the hills. I camped there alone next to the river. My tent touched the sand that slowly was dragged into the cold mountain water. The silence of the woods surrounding me not broken by machines or men.

I awoke to a glass lake everyday. Untouched by the land or man. I would slide a canoe into the icy water and paddle to the middle and watch the sun rise over the mountains. The golden light would warm my skin and fill me with the energy of a new day. 

But no longer do I awake to this peace. I don't feel the warm sun on my skin. I don't smell the trees and hear the world waking up. I awake to this so called higher standard of living. Where a human makes their way through life not by inspiration and originality. But by clinging to the social norm and acting as if this life we all live is natural. 

My heart longs for a world and a place that I can only temporarily have. A world where freedom takes on its literal meaning. Where a man is equal with what he lives among. Where no other creature judges you for who you truly are. Where no amount of money and fame can hide the true self. And I can no longer ignore this call of the mountain. This call of true living.   

I'm suffocating in this smog of what is now my life. 

And honestly I am just looking for a way to the air again. 

Love

I am in love with you. For every part of you. I will never stop. I do not think I could stop. My love is like a train right now and its moving to fast for me to even think of jumping off. I will never give up this love because I am scared of losing feelings again. Love is what differentiates me from the boring calculator in your backpack.

My love for you is consuming my thoughts, and for the first time I am ok with that. I feel the warmth of the sunlight once more, and the bitter bite of a cold day.

Winter and summer, Fall and Spring, Water and Ice, Fire and Steam. Before they were bland and dead. Now alive and full of color.
I can see the seasons and feel the change. I can smile at the rough and miserable days. I can smile and feel like life is really ok.

I am in love with you. And its out of control.

Being Human

I bleed red.

I think that alone is enough proof to prove I am a human.

                                     I dont dispute the fact that some of my habits are in fact robot like.

But I swear I really am a person.

My mother swears that I don't have a heart. But its been broken so I can confirm that I do.

I know I am a human. 

But how do I know you are to? 

Nothing really.

Alex Supertramp

He sang with a girl who lived at the slabs. He climbed a mountain with a old man. He canoed the Colorado river. He crossed the border. He made it to Alaska only to die in a abandoned bus. He did what his heart told him to do. He lived life in a original way. 

I bet he didn't think that bus would be his coffin. 

ENTER

I read a book that made me think about life. I cried through the entire book if that tells you my condition. 

I have been trying to post something for two hours but cant think of how to tell you how utterly unordinary I am, in a ordinary way. 

My life is a collection of failed attempts to make my own way. Live by my own code. And not follow the mold my fore fathers have made. 

The only rule I ever broke was a rule I made for the purpose of breaking. 

I spend to much time planning things I never would really do. 

I have a rock in my backyard that I stand on and pretend is the peak of some distant mountain that I summited.  

I am a green tree among a black charred forest. 

I have others that love me, yet I never have felt so alone. 

I am who I am. But how do I tell you about me, when I'm still trying to figure out myself.