1112pm:

I’ve realized that the time in-between my last few pieces

exploiting my delicate voice 

and the concrete that has encompassed around my entire self

is growing exponentially and 

I’m afraid that I’ve grown comfortable to the 

lack of words. I feel 

my diction deteriorating and

the fire in my eyes 

when literature used to make me cry

is now a tiny flame I rub my dirty hands together 

to keep alive at night. 

I’ve become so enamored in useless things

like rearranging my bookshelf twenty-six times

until I threw them all into storage 

when I found out that I would be lying

to display these books 

I’ve only half read twice. 

And I read somewhere once that 

it takes courage to lead a damn honest life

and to hell with people who will never 

take the time to understand 

that I am trying– my God, am I trying

yet to try, for me, means to abandon a 

very visceral part of myself 

and that is what keeps me quiet. 

That is what frightens me the most. 

That maybe I won’t find the same amount of 

inspiration in the better parts of me, in the 

the places that are still kept pristine. 

That the ghosts of being weak and reckless

have stolen the parts of me I loved,

which lies the biggest discrepancy of all. 

(Source: 1112pm)

When the snow falls & rests on the tree tops of the dry, weak limbs I pause to listen for the voices of the branches that once beared fruit.

Have you not heard the voices of the trees? For they sing softly when the wind rattles through their leaves. Or when they cry out their final breath as they crack under the weight of snow.

It is a rare but daunting sound–the snapping of the branches above. It reminds me of the day you spoke your last words to me, “I can’t do this anymore.”

My chest began collapsing inside bringing my whole body to my knees. Hot tears streamed down my face. I held my breath. My heart broke into a thousand splinters one by one shredding my insides.

I smiled hearing those trees cracking & snapping from bearing the weight of the snowfall. This coming spring, the trees will grow stronger & bloom thicker vines with sweeter fruit.

I let go of my breath. I unravel & stretch myself.

Some wars I battle every day. This one is not one of them.