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Everyone has Truths.
Facts about life
that they know 
to be true. 
Maybe your Truth is a white dude in the sky, nothingness, an inner Light, multiple gods, or connection. There aren't many rules to having a Truth. Any actually. Just that you believe it.  I guess. 

You can't deny


their truth. 

There's This Lie

There's this lie.
It can creep into the back of your mind if you're not careful.
There's this lie.
That can seep into your thoughts. 
There's this lie. 
That could end your life.
There's this lie that suicide is beautiful,
 poetic, even. 
A courageous end to a hard life.
Suicide is ugly. 
It's the ugliest thing on Earth. 
Depression isn't lying in bed waiting for your white knight. 
It's sore throats and broken stomachs from throwing up too much. 
It's blood running cold down arms that have been torn apart in hatred. 
It's sobs at a funeral for someone who was taken too soon. 

Suicide is not beautiful. 
There's this lie 
that it is. 
Crush it.

Wasting Time

Is it a waste of time to sit,
staring out the window- wishing-
taking in what you can't quite have?

Is it a waste of time to clean,
to put effort into something that
will only be undone?

Is a waste of time to write,
something that will
only be forgotten?

Is it a waste of time to love,
knowing it will only end  
in a blink of an eye. So fast you can't
quite catch it, so slow you can only replay it
over and over.

Is it a waste of time to live,
for you can only die?



when everything feels big
and towering around you.
When the light is dim and

is all I seem to be able to know. The sadness
my eyes for me. Shielding
from the horror that depression
from the scraps of death
of it's heart.

Forever Books

Here's the thing about long books:
when you're reading them you go
yes, yes, keep going
Keep going until the spindles of forever
wrap itself around your heart to make it beat just a little bit faster
until the words swirl in your mind and all you know
all you can feel are the words
of this single book.
but here's the other thing, you want to know
what happens?
who happens?
how does their story end?
but again, there is the forever tapping on your window
and you welcome them

If I Was A Thing

If I was a bird-
I'd fly with wings pointed high in
the sky, feathers
barely nicking the corners
of the sun.
I'd live in a nest,
low in the tree-
close to the
action of the world
Slowly eating bugs I find along my path.

If I was a fish-
I'd swim and swim and swim
to the edge of the world.
Breathing through my sides,
Eating anything that moves
in the still water of the

If I was a thing-
I'd be a bird or a fish,
something tall or something small,
or maybe nothing at all.
Just a speck in this world,
having a ball.

Mountain Time

I am astonished
at the human lack of ability
to stay still.

Skipping ahead.
Snapping pictures of landmarks to prove
how far they have walked,
instead of capturing the moment
in their hearts.

Stop and breathe.

My challenge to you
is to live on mountain

Do not dwell on
the mistakes of your
past or compare
to your old feats
Do not fret over the uncertain
Still yourself

The mountain is frozen in
yet never stops moving,

Leaves are reaching
desperate grasps
at the sunlight,
sunlight can never be grasped
only reflected.
Trees spiral up
to the sky,
Ants dutifully picking
up pieces of the forest floor
never stopping to admire their progress.
Mushrooms ever carefully decaying
what they grow on,
yet it is not out of
malice, like the word projects

Only part of mountain time.