Louder Now
Salt Lake City Airport Layover. On my way back to California. Christmas was amazing!
Pause for a second..
It wouldn’t be your first time deleting that,
Pressing completed,
Pressing deleted.
Waited for thoughts to form,
For the bad form,
For the last time to be the
First time.
I don’t regret anything,
Just all the things that still
Linger, that still feel like
Danger,
Cause I am scared,
Like I have been before.
Teacher said, ” Writing is showing,
Not telling,”
I don’t know how to show,
Not just yet.
This won’t be the first time
I tell, it won’t be the last either.
Everything called ‘Show,’
Well, that is to be continued..
September 28th
Is this is the end?
The end of thirst,
or hunger, or both?
The end of despair,
The part called repair,
Pulled in, pulled out,
Not at the right kind of time,
You tasted some of me,
And I felt some of you,
I made this pleasure thing last
As long as it could,
The labels and the boxes were wrong,
And not true,
In the end it still would come back to You.
I sought to wander,
To find a fountain,
To find a mountain to climb and win!
Just a rut, and in it!
Almost the end,
Of the day,
Of the dry,
Of the spy and the land,
And the giants to try and to
Understand,
Now it is almost,
It is almost there,
I had some care,
And a fountain to stare,
To drink from,
To do some,
Damage,
And damages were done.
Never should I have said yes
To the undress and all that came
After,
But now you are here,
And I am far,
And we are almost as far
Away as we were before.
September 10th
Those days were like along,
Like Shine Along,
Days before, weeks before,
I was trying to explore,
And say no more to the waste
That Friday would call to me,
And correct with me.
It was a walk,
But not of fame,
Maybe more so about the shame,
Days are gone,
You know, the one’s without you..
Overshare, or never aware, never
To much, and never to little to ever
Say again to You.
Started this out with love,
With a little despair,
Started this out with
Wander,
With pander,
With something for you to wonder,
About and lost, and in and out,
So I had started, almost there,
Walking and living in despair,
And now love was supposed to follow
Me,
And the fountain was to give some history,
Some history of being thirsty,
Some pages read of the misery.
We had it,
We were almost there,
I am empty and not full,
Looking for despair.
