In five years time,
I see myself sitting in the local
café of wherever I end up.
Sipping on a cup of bitter coffee
I’ll learn to like the taste of because
high blood sugar runs in the family.
Take it with a side of croissant,
and a good book.
My notebook and pen resting just
in case I get the urge to write about
some aesthetic this window seat view
is giving me. Some vibe that the
coffeehouse playlist is setting.
Some feeling that I’m not so lonely
in a place I don’t even know about yet.
How I want to be in a place I don’t even
know about yet.
How am I writing about a place I don’t
know about yet? How am I supposed to
get to a place I don’t know about yet?
I’m not sure.
But I know I’m trying to get to a
place where the coffee is good
enough for me to like coffee.
And the music is making me feel
some type of way about myself,
and how I got there.
Where writing just comes naturally,
and the pen doesn’t feel so heavy in
my hand, and the words are as light
and flaky as the croissant in my other.
Where I don’t have to write about
imagining myself in places I know are
better than here, but don’t know where
to find them yet.
we all have our demons, demons who sit on of our shoulder and make our lives a little harder. we all have our demons, demons who constantly remind us we’re not good enough or worthy of love. we all have our demons, who constantly tell us the only thing we’re scared off, even if its not true. we all have our demons, mine remind me how my fat selfish dumb ass is incapable of being loved by anybody. we all have our demons.
What I wanted most back then was the feeling of liberation. To be freed from the past and the burdens of my emotions; they chained me to the ground, holding me captive for too long. I felt the heavy metal chains around my ankles, wrists, and neck. Digging into my skin as I tried to slip past them, the chains dug further, breaking the skin until blood mixed with iron. I would imagine what it felt like to be free and in my dreams, I couldn’t help but imagine the euphoria of soaring above the madness, to spread the wings I knew existed and finally leave.
When the chains were finally broken free I didn’t know what to do. I held fast to the ground, standing on all fours. My blistered hands clinging the dirt while my knees tried to bury themselves into the floor, scared of the idea leaving the pain I was so accustomed to.
I felt terrified and consoled when I finally decided to spread my wings. They were hesitant to move, terrified of their own strength, yet slowly I stood up and closed my eyes and tried to remember. How much my dreams had meant, how much I wanted to touch the clouds above me and soar, and as I opened my eyes, I finally saw myself flying.
One day I’ll sit and
Look back at my past,
Hindsights 20/20 so
I’ll sit back and laugh.
All the bad will be all good
Because it will all be all over.
Mistakes become funny stories
Tragedies to memories
I just hope that I have someone
With whom to share the pleasantries.
regret is familiar
seeps slow and still
beneath your ribs
gives your bones
robs the air
from your lungs
you don’t breathe
puts the stutter in
the lump in
you don’t speak
gives your eyes
you don’t blink.