00:00

I am not running out of time. If anything I have an abundance of time.

I used to feel like I was on a time limit. The clock in me ticked aggressively.

I had writer’s block for the longest. My goal to write a book started biting my foot. It dragged me into the darkest of corners because I thought I was running out of time.

If I don’t publish a book soon, I would never amount to anything I thought. I learned that this clock in me only worsened my writer’s block.

I have so many dreams. This irrational fear that I would never reach them stems from my own self-doubt.

I doubted that I would make it as a writer. I doubted that I would live long enough to see my dreams come true.

That clock has to slow down. Life is counted but I will reach everything If I really want to.

Tic Toc… stop clock.

My dreams will come true, be it 22 or 52.

All that matters is that I do it. That I don’t give up on my goal.

The success of others can not be a measurement for my own.

Clocks tic for so many reasons but sometimes we have to reset it and place it back on 00:00.

Running Soul

When I sleep my spirit dances outside of my body.

The wind grabs my spirit and drags it out of the flesh where it’s been caged in.

My soul walks through the apartment and everything is dark.

The only thing on is the t.v in my living room.

No one is home, just my soul and my body that is laying on the bed.

My soul hears the spirits who never made it back in their flesh.

Scared to end up like them, my soul runs and jumps back in my body.

I wake up and wonder if I was dead last night.

If I entered a realm different from my own.

Lucid dreaming.

A state of running from the lost souls.

A tale of two what if’s

All I ever want to do is hold you.

To tell you I will never hurt you.

To show you what I lacked in the past I don’t lack any longer.

To show you that I can give you the world and carry it on my shoulders.

Sometimes we meet a person who changed our whole lives.

That’s you.

You made me aware of pain and comfort.

Aware of loss and gain.

All I ever wanted was for us to grow… but destiny just had other plans I guess.

We will always be nothing more than two souls who could’ve, should’ve and would’ve been twin flame lovers…

Poetry saved me

Poetry is a beautiful thing.

It’s a creation of expression.

A creation where my lips may not be moving but my fingers are writing something magical.

Magical for me at least.

I am letting go of things that verbally, I didn’t even know exist.

Poetry saved me a couple times from letting go of my dreams, my future and let alone myself.

Poetry saved me when I was dealing with trauma only the world knew behind closed doors.

A poem can rhyme, can be disorganized, can be shaped and twisted around through syllables, sentences, words.

I paint pictures with written words.

I tell stories only my brain can unfold.

Poetry saved me.

Poetry is music.

Music that fills my ears with jazz and romantic words.

It’s my reminder that I do believe in true love.

I write about love and realize that word means something to me.

No matter how much I try to pretend it’s just a word.

Power hides inside my fingertips.

These written words one day maybe my legacy.

Poetry saved me.

Poetry held me.

Poetry will be the legacy I will leave behind one day to the children I still don’t know.

It is the gold I hide in my treasure chest.

Poetry is more than just words written in cursive and ink.

I have a relationship with it that not many will truly ever know.

Poetry,

Poetry,

Poetry…

My first love.

Wild Dreams

In my wildest dreams.

I imagine the sun setting in front of me.

It’s hues and arrays of colors shining down on me.

Glistening.

I’ll stare at it and a star would fall down and I could touch it.

Take it home with me and keep it in my pocket.

Make a wish each time I feel alone.

In my wildest dreams, I’d meet the love of my life on a Ferris wheel.

My love would turn into that love I’ve never had and would eventually build a world with.

Carry my love’s picture in my pocket.

In my wildest dreams, I would solve the world’s problems.

Eradicate racism, classism, sexism and all the isms.

Feed everyone on the planet.

Care for the sick and the needy.

In my wildest dreams, the world would be a dream I would gladly never wake up from.

But the reality is all I know.

So I like to pretend the phone in my pocket is that lucky star, my love is somewhere searching for me, and the world,

Well, the world will hopefully one day grow.

But for now, I’ll dream, I’ll wish and I’ll do little things that help the world.

Maybe, just maybe, my wildest dreams will come true.