First World Problems

Canted over, I carve the curves,
Tires tracing the twister parts
Of a several-season-cycle semester abroad,
The epic apex of my extended adolescence,
and I am befuddled, and suddenly struck
By the enlightenment that, right or wrong,
Most of my life is the time of my life.

www.timemachinematch.com

I shouldn't continue, but heck, I've begun.
Of my many ill-advised verses, here’s one,
Written to entertain, starting with me,
and perhaps as a shotgun boost for self-esteem,
and because I find writing incomparable fun.
I don’t mean to suggest things that oughtn't be done,
But the more-than-ten-years-ago version of me
Would move worlds for the you that has just come to be,

and he would have a point.

311 Would Dig It

My heart hot, my blood cold, my emotions mixed,
I stand on the spot, unformed and transfixed
As a bolt of brilliance rips into the night.
The dark storm and dim slumber are, for the moment, set alight,
Marbling the black and the charcoal gray with white.
It feels wrong to take in, as splendr'ous sight,
Zeus getting in his destruction for today,
But what doesn't get less ugly, far away?

Love Is Deaf, pt. 2

I will be stunned to disbelief.

I will cry myself to sleep.
I will crave your approval,

and dread your touch.

I will spend mornings

Looking in the mirror

Searching for a flaw,

For what it was you saw

That inspired you to say that,

Searching for my self-esteem,

and I will pretend I didn't hear.

Love Is Deaf

It's the only sound that truly clears my head.

It's the only sound that could ever scare me to death.

It's the sound of unexpressed frustration.

It's my idea of celebration.

It's the final destination

For life's many awkward situations,

Like thinking you're to stupid to notice how I feel

(Like being too smart to open your eyes).

My Personal World, Part 23: The Haunted House In My Head

I don't remember the names, just the notes
That fill my head and my bedroom with ghosts,
Which is neither surprising nor quite the usual.
I'm left wondering if I'm really delusional,
If the chords wore shortcuts down in my head,
Or if I'm just easily (musically) led.
Keep the mix right, watch the ghosts coalesce;
One wrong song, they leave with unwanted gentleness,
Drawing back into the darkness, dancing dirges
To a second-rate soundtrack.

It's Not Reminiscing If You Wouldn't Go Back

I have been a shell of a soul,
a wanting well, a bottomless whirlpool.
I have known the gnawing nothing,
Been a tongueless, toothless vacuum.
I have lived through settle-for-anything,
Lived long enough to give myself this gift:
I have taken in just enough
To be empty, and hungry, but picky.