I Can’t

If I can’t write you something deep and show you what is right,

How am I to be there when you fall?

If I can’t speak a work, and keep you up at night,

Should I be writing you at all?

 

I want to blow your mind.

Or somehow slow down time.

Point a pen in your direction and make you think your brain is mine.

 

 But I can’t.

 

 I’m missing that spark, that pop star flare.

That light in the dark to make you stare.

I’m just me.

 

I’ll never have the look, that award show given face.

Like a plot hole in a book I’m out of place.

I’m just me.

 

And I can’t.

 

I want to write a page of history,

Be a chapter all alone.

Your favorite part of this story,

Bring in ratings on my own.

 

But I won’t.

Because you don’t know who I am.

 

I’m just me.

 

And I can’t.

The World

I could show you the world.
But If I lose my legs,
Or don’t have the money,
Promise you won’t get bored..
Of me. 

Right now money’s a struggle.
I had two weeks off work,
But that last paycheck wasn’t double.
I can’t say I’m broke, but I’m fighting off injury.
‘Cus yesterday I woke, having slept through misery. 

It could always be worse,
But in cold days remorse,
I wish I had more money.

My brothers went skiing today.
I was invited along, my mom offered to pay,
But I’m trying to be a man, I can’t work that way.
Leave handouts for the needy, and food for the poor.
I don’t want to look greedy, but I ask God for more.

Because I could give you the world.
But if I lose my mind, and don’t have the money,
Promise you won’t get bored.

I dream so big, but doubt so much,
Like an old man’s wig, pulled out as such.
Do I work as hard as I should?
If the proverbial man could grow it again; he would.

But do I rely too much on faith?
Do I risk my dream just dying?
My future self is just a wraith.
To be him now, I’m trying.

Death to myself. My faith needs work.
I’ll buy breathe off the shelf, or just ask the clerk.
‘Cus some days it’s tough to breath.
It’s rough to think you might just leave.
Especially now that I let you believe…

I can show you the world.

If I’m a millionaire or hotter,
Or I pay my bills with air and water,
Know I need to know you’ll stay.
Stay here, the way fear lays near when you’re gone.
Now, don’t get me wrong.
I’ll give you my best and always put you first,
But laid down to rest when I’m dead at my worst…

…I long to show you the world.
But if I don’t have the money,
Promise you won’t get bored..
of Me. 

Bedded In Triumph

At this point it makes no difference to me,

What the world sees me to be.

I just gotta keep living my dreams, see,

I don’t wanna be the death foreseen for me.

When I look up in the mirror I’m disconnected

Thought I’d recognize the image but I’m disrespectin’

Who I know could be the hero in me, for direction;

But the darkness in the air around me’s so depressin’.

I wont acknowledge who I know that I am, because Im fighting for the man I know  I could be,

If I’m falling in the ring and can’t seem to stand, make posters and cheer for the losing ‘Me’.

Because I’m fighting for the knockout,

Teeth biting till the clock out,

Heart writing so I block out,

These emotions.

I’m holding back the fallout,

Till my doubt can haul out,

My opponent burns out.

Feel the notions.

I don’t ever start something, I don’t intend to win,

Which means my birth was not something, to run and wear me thin.

I’m in this for the long haul,

Don’t question where I’m headed,

My back may be against the wall,

But triumph’s where I’m bedded.

General Conversation

I smile.

But can you read it in my body language, the overflowing pressure gauge,

Like something’s about to blow?

My anxiety, triggered silently, when you speak; I fall below. 

It’s not you. Trust me. It’s not you.

Honestly true, just me, nothing new.

But can you feel it?

Can you see it in my eyes? Maybe hear it in my voice?

Maybe see it in my hands as they sweat by no choice.. of my own..

… alone … 

You’re here; talking. I hear mocking. 

Not in your words, or even your tone; 

But in the voice in my head, which I’m prone to condone..

… alone …

“Stop blowing holes in my ship!”

I yell at my crew, as they unload a clip.

A round of bullets, shot straight through;

The mutiny aboard my mind.

This panic anew. The heart skip, tongue slip, I’m drowning. 

My boat quickly sinks, in the ink on the page,

As my skull deeply thinks, in the loll of it’s cage :

Your misinterpretation of my total misconception

Of the total imperfection of my ‘horrible impression’

A confession of depression from my no doubt flawed perception

of you.

Teach myself a lesson.

Help.

General conversation shouldn’t strike an ill sensation.

Depression takes it’s tole

Compression of my soul.

Help.

…Don’t stop talking. This is good for me, right?

These words keep stalking my conscience at night.

I scream.

You can’t hear me, it echoes within.

You’ve done nothing wrong, but patience is thin. 

I do not like to feel this way.

If normal was an option, I’d be it today.

So please keep talking, I’ll learn to survive.

My eyes just blocking, the demons inside; alive. 

But to whatever you’ll say..

I smile.