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The small man in the glasses who wanted nothing but time.

The small man in the glasses who wanted nothing but time.

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Bukowski

Bukowski

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How Unfair (midlife fear)

How unfair
Only the wealthy truly live
The rest of us take a job
just to survive, uncomfortably.
The job devours most of our time, 
even days away are spent
unconscious or dazed
as we stare into our backyards,
a graveyard for our dreams,
or looking at the home, 
what we’ve settled for
settling in
Midlife takes hold
and the regrets we’ve been fighting
begin to win
and we feel guilty for thinking
the what ifs.
Guilt-tripped for not being appreciative;
for wanting more.
We just want to live.

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Blue and Green

The green of trees 
Against the blue of sky
reminds me of days, years,
Passed by;
Of trampolines 
Swimming pools
and waking up on a friend’s
couch
awaiting the day to unfold.

A time where thoughts of the future
did not scare me. 
Where I still stood behind the lines
in the sand
I drew for myself.
We are so different:
the me then and the me now.

Still, the trees invade the sky
a clash of bright and dark green
against an empty, blue nothing
forever above me.

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this cage

One day soon I will have my way. 
At least once I’d like to say
I am content. 

I numb myself for days. 
I am awake for days
Distracting my mind
I find a kind 
of careless blank
behind 
the eyes, despise the bank
of endless worry.
No need to worry
my misgivings 
are unsigned.

Then I’m alone
Situations I’ve designed
unwind in my mind
wishes to rewind
resurface.
So unkind how I remind
myself of all of my 
faults, failings, flaws,
flies in the ointment
disappointment.
Life feeding me doubts
bouts and battles
All I can do is rattle
this cage
and choke on this rage
that desperately wishes
to spoil the joy of my fellow man. 
Until I can 
put my mind at ease

At least
I have some peace…
My animosity
vanishes for a while
I can smile;
diversion until the cycle
begins again.

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HEADACHE

Is this life? The sad, gray look on our faces show the acceptance that we are where we’ve ended up, despite our trying to go where we want. To be who we are. I see it; people becoming unrecognizable and uninterested in anything that once lit up their eyes. The aspirations they’ve held closely are stars burning out in galaxies barely visible. No joy but the small intervals between the long, exhausting blurs of daily life. Time becoming meaningless as the hours speed by. Hours for pennies. Pennies for survival. The cycle grinding our souls to bleak and empty dust. We lose ourselves in the distractions, the necessities built for us. 

We settle for anything we can get. We are repeatedly taught at our most vulnerable time that as long as we put effort into it, our futures will be bright. When we reach the end of the ceremony, the passing of the exams and the finalizing of procedures and the signing of documents, we are told that none of it really matters. We are tossed into the air, finding out that we are never owed anything by the life we live. Effort could or could not equal anything. After years of creating such an ideal life in our minds, years being encouraged, force-fed hope that our preparations will lead us to a happiness only imagined while wearing a naive smile of certainty, the image we have is abruptly shattered. We spend nearly two decades putting together a beautiful picture of a fitting future and then we are left to piece it back together. Reality’s boot upon our faces. 

I don’t want to become this. I don’t want to shovel the dirt on my dreams. I don’t want to melt into a grey puddle of what I once was. I don’t want life to just walk on as I wave a white flag in defeat. I don’t want to accept that things are this way and that’s how it is. That we are thrown, hurdling towards an end that we will never dodge and there is no control. I don’t want to just exist, I want to live. I can’t just watch life happening, I want to be a part of it. I want to have control. I want to be more than the small promise I’ve discovered. I don’t want to bring flowers to my own grave. 

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At My Teeth

Thousands of things, 
At my teeth
Begging to be let out
and I keep them there. 
So they retreat
crawling back, defeated,
They return to their prison. 
My brain. 
My hell.

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Cycles

With every new day,
we breathe in more baggage
and exhale more damage. 

We destroy what we can’t use.
We cry for the bridges we ourselves have burned.
Erecting statues in the names of fools
And we chastise those who see with different eyes.
Our cycle never ends.

We spin on this rock
And inwardly, we spin,
Spiraling into some madness
we have found.
Whatever it is 
crawling, and scratching
inside us
It wants to survive. 
So that others do not. 

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Anonymous said: If you were given the chance to change 3 things about yourself or your life, would you change anything? If so, what would you change?

There are plenty of people who will say, “I am me and that is all, I would not change anything.” 
I am not one of those people. 
I hate how short I am. It’s my biggest insecurity. As a male, being short is probably one of the worst things that can happen. You are overlooked, ignored, bullied, and never taken seriously. It’s just overall no good. I can’t really say there are any pros to it. I’d definitely change my height.
I’d probably change a few things from my past. I’d want to make a few decisions disappear. I’d pick a better college. Stick with something else instead of feeling like time was caving in on me and I had to make a decision right then. 

Honestly, I can’t really answer this question. There is only one thing I’d be sure I’d change, which is my height. Other than that, if I could only pick two more, I’d never be able to come to a conclusion. I regret so much that I’d have to just change what year it is to fix any of it. And even then, how am I to be sure it’d be fixed?

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Anonymous said: What musician(s) inspire(s) your writing, if any?

If I had to name a musician that inspires writing, it’d have to be Tom Waits. But, when I’m writing, if there is any music playing it’s usually something with no words. Early jazz or that weird electronic stuff. There has been a few times I had some Agents of Oblivion playing in the background. Dax Riggs’ has some amazing vocals. But usually, everything is kind of just tuned out and it’s just me and whatever I’m typing on.