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I Try To Rise Clean Like The Sun (2011)
Every morning I wake up forgetting,
What I so direly prayed about last night,
What has wracked my soul to the bone,
Despair joy desire repulsion,
I spend the rest of the daylight
And the moonlight looking for it,
I don’t want this,
I don’t want the fear and the wonder,
The sublime is lost at my feet,
Like an aborted dream on a bathroom floor,
I do not want this responsibility,
Feeling the weight of fate upon my hand,
As I drive the vehicle of my life forward,
Feeling out of control of my own mind,
Lost in the sway between rationale and emotion,
I don’t want this,
View of a place I can’t go,
This parting of the curtain to show my eyes Paradise,
While my fingers are still burning and sticky,
Smoke still in my lungs and thoughts,
I do not want this sorrow,
This feeling of longing and repulsion,
Knowing what will never be right and what will,
A sort of half hearted righteousness
Always half in and half out of my own heart,
I don’t want this,
Poisonous wonders in ingest daily,
Word substance feeling sound,
I poison my eyes with the shadows upon my screen,
And like an addict I can’t stop,
I do not want this fear,
Letting each fire die for fear of burning,
Sacrificing my past for my future never seeing,
The scars I lace upon my present as it bleeds for me,
As I leak my secret source to survive,
I don’t want this,
Knowing of how my desires mean nothing,
So I spend my seconds recklessly in hopes of finding peace,
A momentary release that can vent some of this pressure,
Feeling like the sun is cooking my with its glance,
I do not want this world,
That can only recycle and never renew,
Cannot breathe life for it’s winds have been locked away,
Bottled and placed deep in the pockets of some not others,
Mother nature once hand many children before we all became orphans,
I don’t want this,
And so I turn my tears up,
Launch them into the sky with unflickering eyes,
Waiting for the moisture to come back upon my face,
And then perhaps a sign of hope to be traced back up,
I don’t want these thoughts,
So I lay my head down into a thing,
Music bed person book game poem dirt,
Seeking to throw this confusion into my trash bin,
Am I rising and falling all at once,
I dream to interrupt the cycle,
Create a safe space to to hope and feel and believe,
To find the meanings I’ve burned down in the confusion,
Attempting I cast out some of the illusions I adopted,
And as fingers lace around the final handle concealing my damage,
I am ripped from the dream
I am ripped from fully healing,
And I try to rise clean like the sun,
