Sometimes

Sometimes, Life can be pretty shitty. It will throw everything it has at you until you are begging for it to stop; it will haul crap onto you like you are the only one in the world with the capability of carrying problems. It can be morbid and sad, hateful and cruel, and it can tear you to shreds. Life will hit you from behind and bring you to your knees, and when you come up, you find a knife in your back. Life will hit you, it will bruise you, it will even cut you so deep, you scar. It will bring you to the brink of death, just to pull you back for another beating. It can be a horrible, vicious thing with no thought to you how you feel, or even how anyone else living it feels. Life will knock the breath out of you, and that’s not even the half of it.

Life has a habit of giving us good stuff, too. It will bring you to the ground and beat you until you are more red than anything else, but it can also pick you back up and nurse you back to health. Life can give you beauty beyond imagining; it can give you the warmest, most loving hug on the coldest day. It can come in the form of a little girl giving you a flower or an old friend sharing a secret with you. It gives you a helpful hand when you need to be picked back up and it can give you a delicious meal when you’re hungry. Life can give you love, happiness, joy, and companionship.

Life seems to go up and down faster than any roller coaster I’ve seen. It will throw you down then pick you up, just to throw you down again. But think about it, if Life didn’t do that, if it didn’t change so drastically, then what other fun would we have? So, fun may not be the word, but it sure would be boring without the ups and downs, the ins and outs, and even the pain and love. If we didn’t get rejected by every pretty girl who looks our way, how could we see how special it is when Amy stops and says hello? If we didn’t cut our knees, how could we feel the triumph of stopping the bike to get off without falling? We need the pain and we need the happiness, otherwise Life would be dull and repetitive.

Just remember this: your grave has been dug, but there is always some place to stand to watch the sun set one last time.

Last Moment

                “Stop!” I screamed as loud as I could, my voice shrill from the fear of what he was about to do. The wind brushed past, pulling his hair to the side. He didn’t look back at me; why would he? I was just the side show, the person he went to when he got bored of his girlfriend, the one who never believed in love at first sight until my eyes met his. They were sad, brown eyes, eyes that made me want to pull him into my arms and whisper that it would be alright. Instead I smiled and asked him about what he liked, what he did. I had fallen even deeper in love with him with each sound that escaped from his beautiful lips, lips that I so badly wished to kiss.

                I should have, I should have grabbed his arm as he walked away from that motel. I didn’t, though; I didn’t pull him close and tell him the world didn’t matter. What if I had met him earlier? What if I had known him for just a month earlier, before he met her? Would it be different? Why did fate do this, show me something so beautiful then pull it away? I thought all this afterward.

                My arm shot out and I ran to him. I was too far, too far to reach him in time. Time slowed; I was going impossibly slow and he was going normally fast. As he took that final step, he looked back at me. His eyes met mine and it nearly made me stop. They were so sad, so desperate, so filled with sorrow and acceptance that I couldn’t swallow. Hot tears fell down my cheeks, the wind stopped, and he fell.

                The moment he disappeared over the edge, I didn’t do the movie scene and run to the edge. I stopped short and fell with him. The difference was that my knees hit the roof and got a scratch and I could just get up again; he would never get back up. I stared, water still rolling down my cheeks, at the spot where he had just stood; he was my lover, my friend, my soul mate. I loved him, and he loved me, but that was the problem.

                Someone below me screamed. I don’t know who. I heard sirens in the distance and came to the realization that he had done this so no one would know about me. My body was cold as I stood up and mechanically whipped my cheeks; I wasn’t crying anymore, that would come later. I was just cold, scared, and helpless.

                The door behind me opened with a slam. Someone who worked in the hotel came storming out toward me. “What happened?” he demanded, sounding angry at how this looked instead of what happened.

                “I don’t know,” I said, still staring at the spot, imagining him. “I came up here for a smoke and saw this guy. I tried to get him to stop but…” I let my sentence die. He could get the rest.

                A police man followed through the door. The man repeated what I had said. The cop turned to me and I knew I hated him. He thought it was me. Why would I push my love off of a roof?

                “Sir, did you know this man?” he asked.

                I shook my head. I did know him, I knew him inside and out, but I couldn’t say that. He had died to hide our love; I couldn’t ruin that for him now.

Life

I'm preparing for a journey,
One that may never end.
The goal is to learn
And enjoy the ride.
The destination has no matter
The luggage is gone.
It's a journey though life,
That only ends
             With Death

Rule

The rain is cool,

The day is hot.

There is a rule,

I know not.

It controls like and death,

It lets the babe be born.

It takes away thy very breath,

Causing friends to morn.

It dominates day and night.

It rises stars,

It quenches light.

It turns lakes to tar.

This rule controls time,

It even changes the rhyme.

What it is we may not know,

But it can change rain to snow.

(in)Sane

Truly, what is the point of sanity?

It has no value, no reason.

To be sane is just to be average;

Being sane means you think like everyone.

It means you act like everyone.

With this definition, that means the best men were insane;

Einstein, Washington, Hughes, Lincoln, Poe, Franklin.

So why would anyone wish it upon themselves,

To act like all, feel like all, think like all?

            So come, throw sanity out the door!

                        Let your mind roam unchecked!

                                    For truly, the best thing to be

                                                Is INSANE.

Change

The world around me is changing.

Tossing, turning, rolling, shifting.

The oceans work, the wind blows,

People change, scenes die.

The world is

            C

                        H

                                    A

                        N

            G

I

            N

                        G

Even quicker than I.

Darkness Today

How long must the day last before the light seeps into the minds of those around me, who are filled with only darkness, deep, ugly darkness that slithers out and attacks those closest, causing their darkness to expand farther than the rolling fields or rocky mountains of the Earth, so that, by comparison, they are darker than the depths of the night where no stars play and no moon watches; darker than the cold, empty hole deep within the earth that has seen no light since the creation of time, and even then it was a mere glimpse. Time seems to only increase their dreaded hatred, expanding it and morphing it into something much worse that no word may describe; something colder than absolute zero and far worse than the unimaginable pain of torture received by an innocent soul, which has never seen death or anguish until that moment. This hated hate, this painful pain is in the very core of our lives today; it crushes souls before beautiful individuality is reached; it put outs the flame of the mind before it can grow wise beyond what is today. Strength is no longer measured in the currency of skill, creativity, or love, but by the dreaded hierarchy with which we had tried so hard to rid of ourselves. It is not social status as in the days of past, but in normalcy and hate. Helping hands no longer reach toward the cold beggar without a crumb; warm hearts no longer stretch out to those helpless. In the minds of most, there is nothing more than themselves and their everlasting darkness, so that all they see is empty abyss, all they hear is the voice which is produced by their own mouth, all they feel is the petty anger burning inside them, and all they taste is the putrid garbage pouring from their lips, contaminating those pure souls filled with light. Let the light flow forth from the earth, from all things living, and touch these who have lost it. Let it fill them once more so that the hate is replaced with, instead, joy; let love fill the pits of anger. Then, and only then, will we be able to once again survive.