Unchained

I shy away from poems because I know I'm not a poet
Rhyming is not my strength and I already know it
But I'll give it a shot
I mean, sure why not?

So I'm standing in this empty room, shouting at the top of my voice
But it's all good
This profession is a result of my choice
An audience isn't something I absolutely require
This ship is sailing on the winds of my own desire
And it's sailing fast
Over seas of glass and storms so vast
I don't even know where we're going
But we're going

I don't need a class or a book to show me where to look
Inspiration is everywhere, you can feel it in the air
Stars in the sky, leaves on the ground
As long as the earth spins 'round and 'round
And I have a place to jot it all down I'll be right here
Pecking away on this dirty keyboard where all my hopes and dreams are stored
But it's okay, I like kinda it that way

I don't need hits on a page, I'm not looking for fame
I don't care if the world knows my name
Or if I'm forgotten
And thrown away for like a tomato so rotten
I'm just one guy fighting fears, occasionally shedding a few tears
Trying to make a dent on this rock we call Earth
A bunch of followers doesn't add credibility or worth

I'll keep telling myself until I believe it's true
The truth is I don't need you
Empty stage or full house
Booming voice or squeak of a mouse
I'll say what I think and write what I feel
I'm the captain of this dingy and I alone hold the wheel
I'm just a pile of walking experiences and expectations
And even though I have no clear destination
I'm gonna keep walking until I find something new
And I promise you I'll get there with or without you

I'll write my own song, I'll dance to my own beat
I don't need your approval to walk on my own two feet
I'll tell my own story
No flashing lights or golden glory
Whether you're here or not I'm gonna write
From the darkness of night until I can see the light

This rant is really long
But we're coming to the end of the song
So I'll finish in stride
You can join me and come along for the ride
Or you can stand there and watch me fly
That's your choice--I've already made mine
I'm gonna do my thing 'til the sun refuses to shine

Malfunction

They collectively hesitated, unsure of where to land.

I double-checked again, wiggling my fingers, opening and closing my hand, extending my fingers as far as they would go. The circuits were intact, the wires were clean, the joints squeaked and did as they were told. My fingers weren't broken; my hands work just fine.

Maybe my programming is a bit out of whack. Maybe a good restart and reboot will put me back on track. Maybe I simply missed a switch or there was a button I forgot to press. 

My mind beeps and boops but nothing comes out, only incoherent garbling and nonsense. The wheels in my head continue to turn, whirring in their little circles, the motor hums like it always does, and the little lights still flash rhythmically. Information continues to stream in but nothing comes out. My hard drive is slowing, crashing, backlogged. I'm behind schedule. I'm off beat. I'm out of place.

I panicked.

I was useless if I couldn't do my job. I was useless if I couldn't do the very task I was built to do. What would they say about the one who forgot how to write in a day? A malfunction? An anomaly in the batch? A defect destined for the trash?

I stare at the page. No words appear. No ideas, no creativity; nothing is clear. Maybe I'm just in a trance; maybe my fingers momentarily forgot how to dance.

But my mind is fine, my fingers are okay. The page is blank because I don't know what to say.

The tears began to roll down my metal frame but I didn't stop them this time. The rust will settle on my skin soon enough. I'll soon be a heap of scrapmetal in a landfill or a dump.

I went home broken because I knew I was broken.

Insert Change

My room is a mess. So I cleaned my room.
My hair is a mess. So I cut my hair.
My car is a mess. So I washed my car.
My journal is a mess. So I tore out the pages and started over.

My life is a mess. So I..

Twirl Me

I clung to her tightly, afraid to let her go, afraid to see her fall
Yet I was afraid to hold her back
Afraid to make her wait any longer for my sake

Don't tell me it's time
My heart can't take this

Don't worry, she said, there's nothing to fear in moving on
My hands trembled weak
But her voice was somehow still strong

I'll always come back to you, she said
Just do this one thing for me

Anything,
Anything at all

Please twirl me one more time and don't stop spinning me, she said

So I closed my eyes
I set her free once more
Boundless, weightless, painless
Spinning like dandelions in the breeze
Gracing open fields without a care
Swirling like leaves descending from autumn trees
Smiling, dancing as light kissing water

A sigh escaped her lips

And when I opened my eyes
With goodbye still wet on my cheeks
She was off and away

Twirl Me 
by Wildlight

Sonder

Eyes, nose, ears, mouth.

Faces.

You see them all the time, so much so that you probably don't even think about it; hundreds in a day, thousands in a lifetime. They are just faces, a set of eyes, noses, ears, and mouths you see in passing and don't give a second thought to, just faces you see but don't know, and probably never will.

Just faces.

Sometimes you only get a glimpse, maybe on a crowded street or bar or store or theater; a quick glance or two, maybe eyes meet for a fraction of a second and that's it, if you make eye-contact at all. Sometimes that fraction of a second is all you get.

Sometimes you might get a bit longer than half a second. Sometimes you're lucky enough to run into that particular pair of eyes more than once, like co-workers or randoms at school or that one barista at your favorite Starbucks or the guy who always walks his dog at the same time every other night. You might make eye contact or say hello, give a nod of acknowledgement or smile out of polite courtesy. You may even be able to recognize that face but those are eyes you can't read, feelings you can't feel, stories you don't know. All you have are the glimpses, those fractions of seconds stacked on top of each other and nothing more. You may never see that face again.

There are upwards of seven billion people on this tiny rock, full of eyes and ears, noses and mouths, all different, all unique. But are they just faces?

Every face is more than just a set of features sucking oxygen and taking up space. Every face more than just nature in its natural habitat, roaming the earth as it has since the beginning of time.

Every face is carries the wear and tear of ten, twenty, thirty, forty, fifty years of life you have not experienced that has shaped them into who they are for the three seconds your lives intersect.

Every pair of eyes hides a story that you do not know; every beating heart is a living soul, a never-ending clash of light and darkness that you cannot hope to comprehend in passing on the street.

Every set of features is brimming with hopes and dreams, fears and failures, experiences and memories that usually won't earn a second glance from you, going about your own business, living your own life.

How many individuals have you laid eyes on today? This week, this month, this year? In your lifetime? How many souls have your eyes moved over without a second thought? How many lifetimes have passed before your eyes during your own?

Think about it.

Sonder.

Lamborghini Angels

Upon first glance she was stunning and beautiful with a hint of dangerous, like the vehicle she posed next to. Her appearance rivaled the car: sleek and pristine, painted and manicured, spotless and white; doors reaching to the sky like wings.

The girl and the car? This must be heaven.

He sank into the leather seat, the engine rumbling softly beneath his feet. He sat there mesmerized, gripping the wheel, breathing deeply. It felt good. He felt alive. Strong and powerful. In control.

"She's all yours," she whispered in his ear.

He was crushed in his seat as the car leapt forward, accelerating from zero to gone in an instant. She whispered in his ear again, caressing his arms, kissing his cheek. Her tongue was smooth and precise, her lips the color of blood, the diamonds around her neck as sharp as daggers.

He didn't notice that she was slowly growing and filling the car; surrounding him, holding him, squeezing him. With his eyes glued to the road, he could no longer discern the roar of the engine from the screeching of the tires from the hypnotic drone of her voice in his ear.

The road soon became a blur, streetlights like ribbons of fire swirling above the street. Part of him wanted to let go of the wheel; part of him wanted to stop. Before he had gripped the wheel; now it seemed the wheel gripped him back.

The noise continued to grow and his vision was fading. His eyelids felt heavy and he was loosing feeling in his hands and feet. He could no longer tell where the car stopped and where she began. The last thing he felt was a crippling pain in his neck.

She sighed as she walked away from the smoldering heap of twisted metal. It was fun while it lasted. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. The blood that ran from his broken body was the same that dripped down her lips.

"I see diamond-flooded demons, Lamborghini angels..."

The Sky is Falling

You can see it in his eyes, hear it in his voice: he is convinced. He believes.

Why is this an issue? Why do you care? This doesn't affect you or anybody else.

No, this is crucial. It may seem small but this will change everything. We will all be affected.

Just go with it. It's not a matter of right or wrong, it's just the way it's going to be.

No! This is a matter of right and wrong; this is clearly wrong. He will not let this go.

You are the only one who thinks this way! The entire world does it our way now; it's official. Corporations, governments, nations; they all do it our way.

He doesn't care if he is the only one; he doesn't care if he stands alone. The world has gone mad.

How are you the only one who knows the answer? Where is your proof? How do you know?

It says it right here in the book.

You intolerable little bastard! What about all the people who think otherwise? They can't all be wrong. You really think we will do the math incorrectly for the rest of our lives because of one little principle? The whole world knows that two and two are five! And it will continue to be five until we say otherwise! You will be prosecuted for your insolence, you ignorant, intolerant, uneducated, unqualified...

Two and two is four. It always has been. It always will be.

They don't want to hear it. They continue to press him, bash him, verbally and otherwise. He continues on.

Two and two is four.

They take his voice. He won't let that stop him. He finds a way. He makes signs, paints pictures, posts online, writes books.

Two and two is four.

They throw him in the slammer. He scratches it out on the wall of his cell.

Two and two is four.

They don't want to hear it. They damn him to loony bin for his claims that two and two is four, that the world is round, that the sky is falling.