Nightmares of Flight

All the words I know by heart.
But if I take them to heart, I can't tell.
I could learn about birds and gain some smarts
And I wouldn't fly any more well.
I could write you a book on how not to fall apart,
My words, they could save you from hell.
I know all these answers. Trust me I do,
But if I told you they were me it wouldn't be true.
So I won't. I guess I'll just tell you the truth,
Even though the idea chills me.
I'll do it though, I'm no more than a youth,
Yet I already know that lies cannot fill me.
Or maybe they can, but I know the boat leaks
And now with my bucket I'm bailing
I'm using my hands, but I'm not going where I seek.
I stopped paddling, because with this bucket I'm flailing.
I need to shower. I know that I reek.
But my boat is filling. In everything I'm failing.
I don't have power. We both know I'm not meek.
So I frantically dump it out, not paddling or sailing.
If I only patched the hole. Apparently there's a leak.
Maybe I can stop the water before it starts raining.

The truth? Sometimes I wish I was me
Looking at myself. It sounds prideful I know.
But then I'd know my thoughts. I'd give advice to me.
Advice that me, and just me would know.
Cause there's all this fear, this anxiety around me.
There's these struggles I never had the pleasure to know.
Then the other ones, the chains that still surround me.
I could write myself a book from the stuff I know.
My heart isn't in it, but I do know how to help me.
If you were a bird, I'd know all you need to know
To get you up in the air, to flap your wings,
To care but not care, to burst out and sing,
To know life isn't fair, it's cruel and it's mean.
To see what's everywhere, live in it and stay clean.
I know my fair share, though I'm nothing but a teen.
Sometimes I can't get anywhere.
The truth is, I don't know a thing.

Everything is Something.

Hang on a sec,
Let me sit on my ass little longer.
I'll just hang out while you sit on yours.
I'm not a wreck.
I've realized I'm not becoming much stronger.
Because though I feel rain, it doesn't really pour.

Usually I watch from the light of day.
I look on as the lightning cracks from above you.
From my umbrella to your cloud of gray.
I'll step into your storm because I love you.

In the end though, it's your storm, not mine.
What am I saying? I don't know the end, it's not time.
I don't know anything, cause right now I'm fine.
In the end though, I know everything will shine.

What scares me is you guys. I feel for you the most.
How can I live my life when so many of you are toast?
But that's just it. I have problems too.
Most of them are minor, some of them are you.

But I still feel young. I'm still inexperienced.
I still haven't found the balance I need.
I know that I've changed. Nobody could deny it.
But change isn't always growth, so I don't know.

Why can't I land in the middle somewhere?
Why do everyone's perspectives always vary?
Why am I so overloaded by this nothing?
Is it just the fact that I really do care?
Or that I'm a fool for finding the unknown scary?
Or maybe it's that there's actually something.
Maybe I'm climbing a big flight of wooden stairs,
Some steps rotting out, and some made of fine cherry.
Maybe when I reach the top it'll be taken from me there.
A burden that I'll no longer ave to carry.
Which will be replaced by another mysterious something.

The will always be another stairwell.
There is always an upper story.
And until I give life a farewell,
I guess I'll be writing this story.

Stopped and Going.

I'll probably just repeat it. I don't trust myself to stop.
Maybe say it different ways, and you'll make it fit together.
Embarrassment because of it, The end. It's all dropped.
It'll never be a craze. In this blizzard you cant see the weather.

Here I am, sitting around busy, watching the fantasy.
The fantasy stings, cause I hate it so much.
In the fantasy you're dizzy. The fantasy is reality.
Oh what fun it brings. It's your giant devious crutch.

You're lying, and I know the secret.
Theres something small on the sideline, just try and shake it off.
It hurts me. Cause I know you'll reap it.
The thing you ignore, time after time. It'll come back. You'll be sent off.

I cannot tell what I'm doing. It looks oh so great.
I'm wrestling, as I just keep running laps.
These fantasies keep brewing, the fantasy that I hate.
I know so much truth, and then you produce gaps.

I can handle nightmares, I really don't mind Freddy.
But the world. The world I see. I watch it spring up.
I now have these cares. The truth is I'm not ready.
But it's ready for me, and I can't make it wait up.

It's the everyday that's scary. I don't mind the dreams.
It's the stuff I can't say, not because it's impure,
I'm not gonna be a fairy. I'm a man, and I'm me.
But theres so much left to say, and there isn't really a cure.

I think about being humble, as pride screws me again.
It's my thoughts. I cling to them. I haven't solved their mystery.
I feel another stumble, from another oblivious friend
I might not cling on to them, but I can't let the clues be history.

My Heartbeat

Feeling. My reality. My heartbeat.
Freezing. With nobody. No fellow heat.
Beatings. Comfort me? I won't retreat.
Cheating. So shallowly. Isn't that sweet?
Gleaning. So selfishly. You and Darwin should meet.

I've embraced it, and called out the dark.
They're laced in it, pre snuff out the spark.
Come bathe in it. Please, hit the mark.
They're hating this, this righteous shark.
Stop wasting it. Let me feel your heart.

I'm chasing it. Will someone push the cart.
Start facing it! Amidst death you should dart.
You're hating it. By the book you're so smart.
Don't change to it, but really, play your part.
I'm taking it, and thank God, I'm not so smart.

Numbness. I'm safe now, I'm nothing.
Dumbness. I choose to know nothing.
Gumless, I bite, detached from all things.
Now rest, flee from my weak suffering.
Should I jest? Should I do something?

I'm broken down. My actions are dead.
I'm powerful now, in a way I'm ahead.
I choose to wow, you can't get in my head.
I can take a bow, go sleep in the shed
I milk the cow, spill it. Why was it fed?
I'm effortless. It's my comforting med.
A lot to chow, maybe doing that next.
I wipe my brow, remember where I'm led
I'm through now, with being through instead.
I know how to produce. You're my bread.

Them. And them.

Enter in. They will love you.
They cannot see inside.
They will see their desire.
In your skin you will hide.

Step out. They won't mind you.
A newfound fight for pride.
In the darker climbing higher,
Trying to show them my guide.

Reveal thinking. They won't get you.
Explain instead of hide.
They're appalled at your fire.
At least you can say you tried.

Meet again. They can't hear you.
The confused glance spreads wide.
You try to explain your buyer,
The significance of how he died.

Look back. Have they moved with you?
They don't know why you just cried.
While you're sifting through the mire
They feel instead that you have lied.

Persevere. They recognize you.
They realize how much you've tried.
But they're slipping off of the wire,
The wire to which you cling tight.

Turn away. Sure, they'll miss you.
But they can't grasp your mind.
They just don't see your inspire.
They want you to just get it right.

Hold fast. Maybe they'll join you.
Progress has been made inside.
Theres a chance they'll experience your fire.
So there you'll still reside.

You Can't Hear Me

In between connection and isolation,
searching for the purpose in the weakness.
Imperfection is flaunted by everyone
But can we be blessed in our meekness?
I hear everyone should be accepted for anything
I also hear their anger at my disagreement
But in their confusion they love their suffering.
I know their hearts can be broken. So can cement.
Could I really accept it all? Should we?
I find logic is invalid and ignored.
Yet logic says one is right, not both you and me.
Theres so many dead in this horde.
A diamond is worth less than a man,
yet as people we leave so fast.
We preserve diamonds. We scheme. We plan.
But do we care if our friends will last?
A quarter way through and I'm dying.
Before I know it I'll be there.
I'm going to spend my time trying.
I want you to know that I care.

Seeing color: a rarity

Some people are a yellow dot on a green page. A yellow dot which is a vessel of immense importance to everyone. A page that seems to only seen by those who are colorblind.

These yellow dots are surrounded by everyone. Everyone being the only people that surround them. Everyone being the people who are content to get by, yet at the same time aren't content with the way things are at all, and are simply waiting for it to change, even though it never changes for the better. Everyone being all the people who are completely different from each other, yet when its narrowed down they all need the same thing. Everyone being the people who in the end simply can't see what is there. Everyone being the colorblind, the ones who cant see the tiny yellow dot that is a part of the green page. They're also the ones who don't want to see it.

That yellow dot screams out at the colorblind. It begs them to see more than the green page. Yellow is all that makes the dot different and important, and it begs everyone to believe in yellow and to become yellow too. Because in the midst of all the green on that page, the few that aren't colorblind walk away remembering the yellow dot, and become yellow themselves.

Not everyone has the ability to see the yellow dot.
Sure anyone can acquire it, but it can't be forced on anyone.

They must simply be given new eyes.

The yellow dot will never give up on the colorblind, but can't force anyone to be yellow.

That's somebody else's job.

"It's not our job to make anyone believe"
-Emery