Walk the talk

It's 3:07am and I have laundry in the dryer and I have a car that is in desperate need of repair and a wart on my finger currently saturated in compound w and it hurts like a bitch and my floor in my room needs to be swept and I had a crazy evening at work and I'm breathless for MORE. Not more chaos, not more unrest, not more insecurity, not more life junk in my metaphorical life trunk. I am so on fire and hungry for more of what makes me ME. One tiny piece of that is writing, and I apologize to myself (because I know damn well that no one is reading this) for falling abysmally short in this regard. Fact is, I have skimped on so many things that make me and cultivate my existence. I'm literally living paycheck to paycheck, but I've lately realized that Ive let that reality become my personal MENTALITY. Like I, myself, my needs and goals also have started to adhere to this crazy business of "staying afloat." Well, crazy notion that has begun to gnaw away at my soul, I damn you to where you belong which is under my slightly sore feet. I am so determined, more than ever, to be, to live who I am regardless of outside circumstance or physical obstacle. My heart is just bursting and I've been quenching the fire for way too long. I'm ready, I'm actually ready to take on life without being afraid of what people think of me. I'm afraid of the undertaking, absolutely, but what the hell doin have to lose? More to come, I promise. Gah, I'm stoked for the future. So much is in my control when I let myself sit behind the steering wheel. Mentality shift-- all systems are go!

Courage, Dear Heart.

It's 4:42 and I can't help it,
I don't know what to do when I am so 
foolishly, wonderfully, selfishly wrapped up in
you.
I called it off and I am having trouble justifying why,
I want to cancel out my reasons to make this equation
an easy solve.
Truth is, I am so in love it hurts and he 
he still has my whole heart,
this irony is still my epiphany, yet it makes it
impossible to breathe.
Why erase the only thing that kept me breathing in the first place?

I battle with the why's, I can feel his sorrow,
I hear it in my ears like a bad song on a loop,
I feel his pain as mine refuses to wane.

Still, I have to be brave if this is for the best,
I cannot bear the moments in between my unrest
when I let myself think of the absence of him.

I know he waits. I know I do.

But treating the symptoms never cured the disease, 
there are things we have to do that neither 
one nor the other can appease.

it must be mutually exclusive.

There's a dark poetry in this pain
because amidst the blackness, this total abyss,
we both have much to gain.