You are my comfort when the day is cold and cruel at home.
You are my shield from the disquieting monsters that roam.
Those that exist both under my bed and inside my head.
Your arms wrap around me tightly to hold my pieces together.
Your arms protect me from all things no matter the weather.
Within our embrace I always feel the warmth of your boundless zeal.
So, I thank you today for your consistent compassion and affection.
For in my eyes, to survive this life, I merely need your soul’s perfection.
No matter the circumstance on our little boat, even if we sank it,
I can always count on you to be my little blanket.
‘Tis a beautiful gray May day today.
Not many people the same would say.
You witness the soft grace of the gloom
Whose breezes sweetly enters the room.
For the sun rays do not occupy the skies.
Thus you quickly seek to dispose your disguise.
The facade meant to hide your dismay,
Your very own little cloud of gray.
You enjoy every precious gray May day.
For they match the feelings kept at bay.
There is a sweet peace in those clouds
That you can never find in crowds.
The bed welcomes you to in him lie
To allow your sad brain to detoxify.
From yourself this haze is a getaway
For your brain is always a gray May day.
Earth. You are a home, a sanctuary.
You’ve existed for countless millenia.
Yet you embody youth.
A constant juxtaposition of life and death.
Life from death. Death from life.
Paradox. Contradiction. Verity. Virtue.
You are everlasting.
Outliving even the strongest concrete buildings.
When disturbed by these structures we force upon you,
you invade and reclaim your space.
You remind us of your power.
You are immortal. Magical. Mystical.
Far beyond the scope of our mortal minds.
You are passive. Cyclic. Predictable.
You are aggressive. Spontaneous. Abrupt.
You are giving.
You are mother.
You are nature.
You are earth.
We are unworthy.
American Independence Day: the day in which everyone feels like an American. Despite being told that you’re foreign every other day of the year. But for one single day, we leave the worries of the world for tomorrow. We forget, even if just for a mere second.
We look up, exhale, and lose ourselves in the mesmerizing lights.
“We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.”
You have this relentless need to live.
Simply existing does not suffice.
You do not settle for the expected or the ordinary.
For nothing about you is ordinary.
You crave to experience spontaneity.
You wish to do more than survive.
Survival is almost instinctual in people like you.
Your type has to work through and for everything.
Hunger, thirst, and exhaustion.
These are conditions you know too well.
Constantly gasping for air, just enough to continue.
But is breathing the only proof of life?
You wish to escape this life, this routine.
This is why you yearn more.
Why you appreciate whim more than most.
You thirst for those moments to surrender yourself.
The moments in which you exhale and release.
And the accumulated tension evanesces.
Numbness. That’s all your mind craves.
An escape from your demanding reality.
The chance you get to lose yourself to the music.
Allowing the anxiety of tomorrow to dissipate.
To finally live and enjoy, not merely persist.
All you crave are the moments that steal your breath.
And those that make your heart flutter.
Euphoria. That is your addiction.
You, incessantly searching for the next fix.
That is the life you chase carelessly.
The kind that empties out your lungs with appreciation. Empty.