4-3-16
There are seconds-
Lately they've seemed to show themselves more frequently-
That I wish,
Oh god, I wish,
I could go back to a simpler time,
When the days weren't so complicated.
Days now are full of addiction, deep thoughts, writing, sleep deprivation, hazy headaches, and poetic viewpoints (isn't it a grand view from the height of your potential? I suppose no one really knows).
This head was simple,
And I had a passion- I think I knew that, too.
I just didn't know how to sort out what was brewing within me.
I had a storm coming,
And no warnings were needed,
Because this isn't bad.

It's funny how life works out differently than you plan it to, but it never ceases to work out.
I never knew what could be made of these veins,
Or what I'd find floating through the red that's coursing through my arteries.

Sometimes I have to laugh in an ironic, sick, yet still almost euphoric way to myself,
And wonder, "how the hell did I end up like this?".
That question stands for my mindset,
With all of its highs and lows (that I end up loving wholeheartedly regardless),
But also for these circumstances,
and how my eyes view what flashes before them.
Because that's how my life comes some days,
In little glimpses,
And again,
Fantasy and reality mix like fluids of similar densities but that doesn't necessarily feel accurate.
Who knew I'd end up like this?
That I'd be battling substance abuse, depression, and temptation, yet still wear a smile because the best rehab I have is all systems go in my head and that's writing (I feel like calling it one word doesn't do justice because it creates an alternate universe and it really should be grouped into something that saves me on the daily, something that I love love love, something that makes me who the fuck I am), that I look at people and the world in such a beautiful way, that I'd be in love with a galactic eyed, freckled, piece of fucking art, that I'd be rebellious, that I'd be in love with myself and all that im doing and I'd finally accept how I look and get over all of my insecurities, that my idea of what life means has matured completely, that I'd grow into who I am today and accept every aspect of my life, that even through all of this life's bullshit, I'm not that bad?
And i want to say thank you to somebody for this,
And there's no way I'll pray,
But when I look down this road,
Look back on how far I've come,
The constant is me.
But i cant take all of that credit,
Because it's so much more than just me.

And maybe the nostalgia that burrows into my thoughts really only offers open reflection,
Because, as the sunlight that inspired this poem outside of my window is slowly beginning its fade away,
I can tell you right now that there's no way I'd go back,
That this, this right here, is more than I had booked in my dreams back then.
This is freedom and oh my god, it's the best thing that's come my way.
- (m.m)