wander
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i awoke and pondered how the day would unfold
then i paced and wondered what each minute would hold
'til the seconds unfurled and the clock hands whirled
and the smirking moon curled, the night sighed, stars twirled
On my wall, there is a map of all the distant places I want to see-
From ancient castles and palaces to grand natural phenomena-
To the lost boy,
You don’t want to see me dance, or hear me laugh out loud.
I’ll still do both anyway, in hopes I’ll make you proud.
Please don’t miss out on this journey of mine,
Trapped in a beautiful reality,
Twirling my Mobius strip.
Walking on burning fallacy,
Standing on the edge of spontaneity, I flip
into the abyss—
blinded by the power of silence
I have a hole in my right breast?
What can feel it?
Money, tenderness, the coo
of a three-month old child?
Can conversing with the cold
wind, an old acquaintance
Strolling in perpetual seabreeze
The leftcorner lips curl
Eyeshield purple vision glow
Sleeves stripped legs unfurl
Deepened dark reddened white
Trappedsun tresses salt wave
Winding roads and fairy tales
junk mail and seasonal spirits
Nothing, empty; all the time
Cluttered half the time by words and numbers
Voices screaming, trapped in a place where no one can hear or see
However lonely
Only is non-existent
You are not yet an island
You are not yet in silence
Nor will you become a blank moon
Keep your eyes hoisted above the frames
Do wander tonight without a name
I met you once on the side of the road
you were walking in no particular direction
You said your name was wanderer
and you were searching for an end
At night you slept looking at your compass
it's true, I say
that the pain stays inside
that we don't know where to hide
but why? you ask
because we're broken
because we're lost
because we are alone
Wow I cant believe I finished high school.
This feeling I feel is too cool.
I thank my mom for everything
and when I have my amazing job I'll buy her anything.
I want to be the best I can be
A small adventure it was,
a mile journey.
On crumbling pavement,
carrying my sandals in my left hand.
Barefoot,
blisters forming,
small cuts from tiny shards of glass,
thrown to the roads.
