its noisy, loud, bustling.
sounds i used to love, so much.
they helped me know i was alive. never alone.
now they're harsh in my ears.
scratches at my mind, and makes me uneasy.
i miss the calm.
the peace, the quiet.
so quiet.
the loudest sound for miles was the hot african sun, beating down on my pink skin.
and i miss that, place.
my home.
away from home.
my african life.
my simple life.
even though never quite simple.
simple enough,
to see the beauty.
and i see the beauty here, too.
its just harder, to find. so muddled, and crowded, and over sensitized.
so loud.
i can hardly hear myself think.
no wonder my voice was so loud, there.
and now i realize that my voice isn't lost, here- i simply cannot hear it.
so i strain to hear.
to make out an opinion, a thought, and anything that resonates within my soul.
but it's difficult.
and i get nothing.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
september 16, 2009
i wake up when i want to, although i set my alarm. i make my first cup of coffee using my mochamaster that i bought in italy and my vintage 70's tea-pot that i bought at a garage sale this summer. i wait for it to brew. i doctor it to my taste. i go back to my warm bed, and sit up with my coffee mug that reads grandpa, that i took from my grandma's house. i sip. and i ponder. and i look through the blinds to the sidewalk that leads to the world. the street. the cars. the people walking by on their way to work or coffee or the like. the trees move. and i wonder why i don't move. i wonder if my love for sitting still is normal. if its healthy.
and then it rains. slowly. quietly. just a few drops. but you can see the promise of more in the dark clouds above. and i am instantly nostalgic. its not sad. its not happy. its an in between emotion that hasn't been invented yet. but i feel it. its sweet and bitter, but not bittersweet. that's too simple a word for such a complex state. its the longing for my self, my true self. my self that i knew so well at other times in my life, that i'm struggling to find now. its the longing for the past, memories with you, with greg, with my brothers, with my grandma and grandpa.
it's those moments that i live for, when everything seems to fall into place. when nothing else matters, because this one perfect moment is existing, now. its the feeling of health, and progress, and joy, and beauty, when you see just how beautiful life can really be. and i notice these things, when the weather shifts, and the leaves start to turn their burning reds, and bright bright greens. i notice. the world comes alive, and for a moment or two i stop living. i disembark from reality, from the world, and float above, to watch. in silence. in solitude. and i love this.
i love these emotions, these feelings, these ups and downs, and silent times that force me to enter my mind. but its hard, too. because it makes me miss so many things from my past, even though not they're not far gone.
as i sit here in the public library, on broadway, surrounded by people typing and reading, and talking muddled, and hushed to one another... i realize that i am alive. that i am okay. that i miss a lot of things, and that i am sad when i let myself miss those things, those people, but that i really am okay. and that life is good. its a challenge, at times. and there are so many questions, so many things left unsaid. but its good.
and then it rains. slowly. quietly. just a few drops. but you can see the promise of more in the dark clouds above. and i am instantly nostalgic. its not sad. its not happy. its an in between emotion that hasn't been invented yet. but i feel it. its sweet and bitter, but not bittersweet. that's too simple a word for such a complex state. its the longing for my self, my true self. my self that i knew so well at other times in my life, that i'm struggling to find now. its the longing for the past, memories with you, with greg, with my brothers, with my grandma and grandpa.
it's those moments that i live for, when everything seems to fall into place. when nothing else matters, because this one perfect moment is existing, now. its the feeling of health, and progress, and joy, and beauty, when you see just how beautiful life can really be. and i notice these things, when the weather shifts, and the leaves start to turn their burning reds, and bright bright greens. i notice. the world comes alive, and for a moment or two i stop living. i disembark from reality, from the world, and float above, to watch. in silence. in solitude. and i love this.
i love these emotions, these feelings, these ups and downs, and silent times that force me to enter my mind. but its hard, too. because it makes me miss so many things from my past, even though not they're not far gone.
as i sit here in the public library, on broadway, surrounded by people typing and reading, and talking muddled, and hushed to one another... i realize that i am alive. that i am okay. that i miss a lot of things, and that i am sad when i let myself miss those things, those people, but that i really am okay. and that life is good. its a challenge, at times. and there are so many questions, so many things left unsaid. but its good.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
september 15, 2009
my mood is shot by the time the shots kick in.
this drug does me no good,
like this sunshine on my cloudy mind.
it's useless and wasteful, and i'm feeling completely empty.
washed-up, washed-out, and wasted,
like these washed-up ways and wasted days.
too many things left unsaid.
too many bows left undone.
so what now, what will become
of me.
of you.
of us.
will any of this matter in time,
or will these moods fade,
away.
fade to gray.
fade to black.
just fade.
faded is my heart; it's color, it's pulse.
straining to beat, to make a sound.
to make any kind of anything at all.
a beat, a sign of life, in this lifeless mess of bones and flesh, i call home.
faded. faint. empty. numb.
always left so numb.
this drug does me no good,
like this sunshine on my cloudy mind.
it's useless and wasteful, and i'm feeling completely empty.
washed-up, washed-out, and wasted,
like these washed-up ways and wasted days.
too many things left unsaid.
too many bows left undone.
so what now, what will become
of me.
of you.
of us.
will any of this matter in time,
or will these moods fade,
away.
fade to gray.
fade to black.
just fade.
faded is my heart; it's color, it's pulse.
straining to beat, to make a sound.
to make any kind of anything at all.
a beat, a sign of life, in this lifeless mess of bones and flesh, i call home.
faded. faint. empty. numb.
always left so numb.
Saturday, September 12, 2009
september 12, 2009
what is it today, that compels me to meet paper with pen.
what emotions are present, running from my mind to vein.
is there even anything there, today.
or am i still numb. numb to this page, like i'm numb to touch.
too much thought, not enough flow.
no release, no relax. i can never just unwind.
and i hate these wasted lines, wasted pages.
i wish my voice would find me once more.
i don't want to be separated, anymore.
lost.
so lost.
i want to be found.
i want to find, all that i've been looking for.
even if i don't quite know what that is.
don't know what to look for, or where to look.
i guess that makes finding it virtually impossible.
and maybe that's the point.
maybe i'll always be looking, searching for something,
more.
something inside myself.
something that makes me, me.
maybe that's what growth is. always searching.
maybe.
feels like i'll never know the answer.
and maybe that's okay.
what emotions are present, running from my mind to vein.
is there even anything there, today.
or am i still numb. numb to this page, like i'm numb to touch.
too much thought, not enough flow.
no release, no relax. i can never just unwind.
and i hate these wasted lines, wasted pages.
i wish my voice would find me once more.
i don't want to be separated, anymore.
lost.
so lost.
i want to be found.
i want to find, all that i've been looking for.
even if i don't quite know what that is.
don't know what to look for, or where to look.
i guess that makes finding it virtually impossible.
and maybe that's the point.
maybe i'll always be looking, searching for something,
more.
something inside myself.
something that makes me, me.
maybe that's what growth is. always searching.
maybe.
feels like i'll never know the answer.
and maybe that's okay.
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