elemental (draft 1)

According to the sacred teachings of Hinduism,

the sound "om" is considered to be the sound of existence.

It is believed that the whole universe,

in it's purest form,

arose from the vibration's of God's vocal chords.

I'm assuming I've been blessed enough to hear it amidst intimate conversations

and as a baseline to the silence of the stars

I can feel it blaring in the breeze

choked on a lung full of autumn air exhaled from the trees

and new beginnings

they say it's the leaves dying

but they just found the colors contained in the chloryphyll

blushing as they show their true hues

simeltaneously we all learn to embrace the spectrums in our souls

ancient myths say the creeks along side the appalacians

were created from the sharp sides of stars,

they scraped past earth on a bad day,

shining brightly, the blades of sunlight left a scratch,

slicing past the laugh lines on the mountains' eyes

we are sculpted by our scars-

as night falls,

the light gets fractured into a multitude of colors

and seeps between the cracks in plastic,

my own insecurities are blinding in the daylight

so it's no wonder I think most clearly under the moonlight-

confident,

I know everything comes to an end eventually,

but when do

portions of your life start to decay into misplaced memories?

the only option at the time

was to avoid dwelling on things that are distant,

maybe the past or more optimistically an intermission,

these moments have half lives,

they morph, deterioate, disinigrate and change,

have you wondered if some of your memories even happened in the first place?

there's something permenant about every moment,

even as it evaporates

I like to pretend I'm an isolated accident

making the best of a mess made by a wrong turn or coincidence

I may have skin constructed 

from past experiences and fiber glass

cracks where my memory leaks,

we are woven together from our worn out expressions,

smiles fraying from being overused

the truth is

my knuckles are bruised

from trying to twist the sunlight into something tangible

we all like to believe we are invincible

or at least to a certain extent

have a sense of control over simple things like cold fronts or our love lives,

but the truth is

we are as predictable as coincidences

and as sparatic as our bad habits

the only time you will ever be perfectly still is when you're dead,

I never want to stop moving-

I'm uncoordinated

tight walking on a stream of consciousness

terrified of drowning

each breath a fraction of my story,

the lack of solidity can be freeing,

stability only exists in liveless living and chaos,

here's a secret:

life is going to happen.

so you might as well let it.

I tend to inject a lethal amoundf of honesty in everything I do

reckless, maybe

I think to think of it as courageous

I might not be omnicient,

but maybe it's the awe of it all

that makes life so exciting.

somedays the extent of my blessings is overwhelming to say the least

I am drawn to likeminded optimists

who find bursts of energy from simplicity

but we are guarded

fix our plastic smiles funded by all the time we've sold

working for causes we don't believe in

our smiles, off center and artificial,

keep our mouths shut

the sun is screaming:

'don't you get it already?

have you not lost enough of your time?

has your health deteriorated enough for you to realized how short your life is?"

fuck your dignity or sense of accomplishment

we are united by the fact that we are fragile

maleable and all have the capacity to feel pain

there is something about honesty 

that reminds us we cannot be divided based on demographics

or time differences,

as much as we hate to admit it,
we are incredibly fragile-
and can't stand the feeling of our trust being shattered
broken like our bones,
the snap of your own sanity can be startling,

so when your voice folds itself along the fault lines in your logic,

surrounded by the silence-

twisted and messy

don't panic,
these things happen,

I will be the first to admit I'm at a loss for words

when you remember to breathe,
breathe deeply,
enough to crack the ribs
that cage you in in the first place,
that concrete exterior isn't natural,
so unzip your skin,

and slip into something more vulnerable

unwrap your voice box,

it is a gift that is collecting dust in the back of your throat-

use it wisely,

never waste an opportunitiy to tell someone you love them-

we can't carry our mistakes around our necks forever,

the trick is realizing how much you've learned

pain just whethers us into a geological sculpture-

compressed under time and pressure,

you have two choices:

live recklessly in every aspect of your life or

tell stories of all the hurt you've avoided when you're  old-

I'd rather be naive than cynical

but just a warning,

it will be a sporatic pattern of excruciating pain and ecstasy

but the wind once assured me 

this is the path that requires more bravery.

by the time you'll die,

I hope you'll have earned it 

I try to bend the light-
distort it from the comfort of my bed-
most days,
I manipulate my day dreams
half awake,
I let all my secret desires play out scenes
tucked slyly behind my eyelids
they trickle out of my ears,
metallic brain waves
drip onto my pillowcase
leave them as I learn to balance honesty with social norms,
I've learned to live one day at a time
as if I was addicted to feeling alive
it's easy to crumble under the weight of the stratosphere
slices of sunlight wrap their tentacles around your wrists
we all want to follow the brightness
unfortunately,
existance thrives off balance
seasons are cyclicle,
the sun has to take a break haf the time
so why should you be any different?
some of us rise with the moonlight-
hightides,
crash with passion,
but it's ok to sink into seclusion
breathing is both internal
and unifying,
intimate and yet so universal,
we are animals,
trying to convince ourselves we have control over anything
the weather,
trageties,
and most of all our emotions,
we are each unique,
yet so similar,
terrifyed of failure,
scared shitless of success,
most of all we want to give more love than we recieve
with the knowledge that we are entrusting
our time and energy
in people who deserve it
but if you find yourself
soaking in betrayal,
you are one step closer to knowing who your friends are.
as much as we hate to admit it,
we are incredibly fragile-
and can't stand the feeling of our trust being shattered
broken like our bones,
the snap of your own sanity can be startling,
don't panic,
these things happen,
when you remember to breathe,
breathe deeply,
enough to crack the ribs
that cage you in in the first place,
that concrete exterior isn't natural,
so unzip your skin,
step out of the waterproof wall you've been hiding in,
and decide it's finally time
to live.

haiku

we are all blinded/ 
by the misconception that/ 
we know what we want 




the difference between/
 lost and wandering is knowing/ 
what you're looking for


how long does it take/
for our past to melt into/
distant foggy dreams?

Letter of advice (unfinished)

A letter to myself,
only open when you feel lost:
Colette,
I am writing to offer you some insights.
here's a secret:
life is going to happen-
so you might as well let it.
don't anticipate or plan-
you were never good at that anyway,
be as adventerous as you like to think you are-
a layer of fear sits at the top of your skin,
parasitic,
it stops your natural instints,
the ones you love to believe in
your hands reach out for the world.
trying to understnad how we're made out of organic matter and souls-
have you ever held one?
cradled it?
Colette,
don't be so scared of failing.
that winith itself is stopping you,
right now I am critiquing my spelling and diction-
the list of fears is long winded and childish,
for instance
1) betrayal
2) lack of control on your mind and going blind,

The rocks weathered into benches.
wisdom had dripped from the eye contact of the mountain tops for centuries,
now,
my guard was erroded in seconds when you held mine.
maybe I'm exaggerating,
or have a distorted point of view,
but after all I like to pretend I'm a photographer,
stealing seconds of time,
as I learn to live in snapshots
photography literatly means
"light drawing"
you color the breeze with guitar strings
I admire your energy,
it's contagious
like the confidence of the mountains
passion fruit gets so jealous of the light that spills from your eyes
spiratic
like a spritz of citrus juice
I get wrapped up in your love of music,
I'm sorry if I walked in on something intimate
you shed your guard bravely with every song you play
so I draw my attention to the trees
and remind myself we are simply foot notes
in the grand scheme of things
I divert my attention relucktantly
and try to ignore the aura of warmth
that is casually spilling from your soul
the mountains whistper in my ear
it's ok to be alive
chills sprint down my skin
a fuse-
I am fireworks.
dying to be ignited
your eyes struck me like flint-
I'm sorry for being so forward
but I don't believe in mind games
and I'm impulsive anyway
you burned me with your briliance
as I gravitate towards you hopelessly
captivated by the supernova in front of me
I hope you aren't just twisted plastic
lit by artificial ambiance
your smile is beaming
scribbling in the space between us
capture with a slow shutter speed
wide and unapologetic
like the expanse of the moonlight
you're teaching me how to leap into life
love the way adrenaline makes you feel so alive
if you don't do what you love everyday

then you're wasting your time.

My gaze skipped against the creek,
keeping rythem with the stream laughing,
your smile was enticing
and exciting,
like pumpkin spice,
I'm learning that breathing can be different.
I've been clinging to a shell of myself
the freshman one,
eyes electric and niave
like sour blue raspberry,
I've been dying to relive the moment's I felt most alive
I'm eye level with the mountain tops and the gods
we have weekly meetings
they replaced church and are a substitute for poetry open mics
I'm blindly grabbing for some direction
trying to find my footing
on a road paved with jagged glass rocks
and shattered perseptions
I surpassed my peak years ago,
at least that's what I've been reciting for the past 4 years
but admist the mountain mist,
the creek snickered and the trees sighed in relief
as I realized
the earth doesn't stop spinning
I don't stop changing
each breath is different,
terrifying, maybe but I'm all for transformations
I just assumed you have one big one all your life
a big bang, a star being born,
I am constantly erroding
weathered away and withering,
trying to pull myself together
before anyone realizes I'm so broken
maybe I'm just chipping away at my shell
peeling layers of paint away
revealing a sculpture
I'll spend my whole life discovering,
letting go is being alive,
I'm learning how to breathe
let my lungs crack the ribs
that cage me in
I am growing
creating myself
and digging deeper towards my soul
I hope I like I what i find

You approached me cautiously, 

eyes assessing the posibilities before you

like I imagine Michaelangelo

flirted with the sistine chapel,

finding the cracks in the walls I've been building

you see something beautiful under all that concrete

slyly eyeing the paint chips

flaking under layers of my skin

anything can be beautiful if it's embellished 

so I paint over my imperfections with 

optimistic acrylics

I wonder if michaelangelo was scared of heights

suspened 68 feet up towards the ceiling

or did he love the feeling of being closer to god

we were eye level with the mountain tops

staring contest with the gods

3rd story, much more than 68 feet closer to the stratosphere-

maybe we're masochists

but adrenaline can make the fear disappear easily

distracted by the moonlight as it spilled past our shoulder blades

to fill the spaces

between our souls,

we both get wrapped up in the silence

of orion's belt,

it feels too perfect

so I break it up with shattered eye contact and a laugh.

I am stubborn like marble,

have the potential to be beautiful

but too focused on my fractures

to notice the sculpture that is hidden under layers of my skin

your acid rain gaze

has the capacity to eat away at limestone exterior

Michaelangelo must have spoken to god

in the months he spent on his master piece

materialized the touch of divinity he was experiencing

both believing art is the answer

we exchange a silent understanding

space between us blaring

I can hear the world slip whispers into the breeze

autumn air's breath on our necks

chills scale your spine to remind you

you're alive

the 3 feet between us

gets louder and heavy

as if we both know it's a warning

sincerity spills from the cracks between my teeth

when I smile

the burst of star dust and plaster 

make us feel small

makes us feel like we belong

we look up at the sistine chapel in the sky

admiring the fresco expression of the stars

wondering if we have the capacity to create a master piece.