“Mostly my fault?” I guess. I’ve been such a mess.
Can’t believe the mess I’ve been.
Neither can my family.
“Merry Christmas,” I guess. Christin’s a mess.
I’m the same.
So much shame,
For which we’ll never be the same,
For which I’m to blame.
With never-decaying affection,
Risen somewhere beyond tomorrow,
I hope to see her again.
She still chats with me.
Glee courses through me,
Through my heart
Down to my soul.
Things are droll.
Gives me hope.
Hope for all of us.
Dreams of tomorrows together
Abound and resound
In my bones.
“Here’s to luck,” I guess.
Sent to you as love sonnets from afar,
Lyricisms transcend despair. No dread.
So many memories flowing—all supreme.
I am experiencing brighter colors.
I feel nothing but dreams and improvement.
Red-purple, blue-green, and black-white-yellow,
I finally feel the right amount of mellow.
Despite desperate efforts for acceptance,
Few grow to know the doubt of happenstance.
There has to be something more to life.
Apocryphal hate-feels in the tirades.
I became so sad I could not even sing.
Life’s tough at twenty-three and no ring.
Bliss holds no prisoners, nor does it fade.
To chart the World’s imagination… Feelings.
Here’s to the innocent people been freed.
Here’s to city street swag and long lost strangers.
The moonlight walks down the riverside express.
Free artifacts of dizzying love spells.
Concretized into mires, tears, and cheers.
Seems like we climb our own Chains of Being.
Psyches are all-consuming . Religions
we explore. Cryogenic civilizations n time,
mythologies we create. Legends of microcosms’
past filter through the currents of thought,
Between the moon, you, and I, I abhor and
Am tired of fleeing, fearing and failing.
Wintry ways of Histories’ burgeon into
Fall begins… Vibrant and Boosterish.
The crisp autumn breeze rids me of apathy.
The insides of my soul no longer bruised.
A chilling, breeze whispering of hope
Freezing, wintry December evenings
Cause blithe strangers to the world to stay in.
Comfort the Goddesses and embrace mouths.
Cliche Oversoul dissolution,
Kisses faces with a sweet, splendid smile .
Intrepid explorers exist perfectly.
Oh, how they turn to dust in our hands.
Rise from infinities and dark skies
Like a sunrise harboring secrets
Tales of wonder about sailing the stars.
Wild, spiral colors surround and abound
Violet and blue, Green and you
A rivulet in the ocean of love
Flowing from the eyes of a beautiful
Woman on a winter’s day…
A warm body with cold hands
Big coats and tight pants
Ra’s smile overhead is so gargantuan
That I can’t bear to look directly
But instead I see its finite grandeur
Reflected off a crescent moon
In the still of black and purple sky
While the lonely individuals are howling
Mad disrupting the tranquil night.
I realize I am a wolf who has chosen
To forget the sun and die by the moon…
For so long I’ve been silent about me.
I’ve never done much of anything wrong.
Truth is, all I’ve ever wanted is to belong.
All I want is respect for my family tree.
I’m the bipolar unlike everyone else.
It has been really tough keeping my head down.
Mania set in at the first undue frown.
I was playing the family instruments well.
Lost it all to alcohol. First you take the
Then, the tincture takes you. I’d take it back.
Sobriety’s something I’ve typically lacked.
Living in crises and shambles got old…
I want recognition for staying well
I love myself for all that I’ve ever been.
Too often besieged by oblivion,
Too much of a mood connoisseur,
To ever cease, my lambent ramblings
Are entombed in my past, but at last,
I feel right with myself and mental health.
Crying out for help, only to land in the arms
Of my girlfriend. She is so swell, well, and sweet.
I think I love her but I tell no one.
The only direction to proceed is forwards.
How far I fell from grace. There’s life to live
Though. So I am going to keep smiling.
Drugs don’t excite me. Meds do. So does she.
There are few folks that bring more joy to me
Than she does. That’s her middle name,,, Joy.
Somewhere between starstruck and beautiful
The crescent smiles keep on a’coming
Zoomed across America straight to her heart.
Now, I scribble sonnets in my notebook
About her. And, I am real about it.