Profess.

Try.
Try to love yourself.
Right now. Today, not tonight,
not tomorrow, not next month
or in between seasons when
the air is warmer outside.

Wherever you came from,
wherever you are going,
from Helsinki and Berlin and Madrid,
or as close to the Equator
as you can get.

Love yourself despite the things
that dictate life, yet don't inspire it.
Fight against mirrors, self-destruction,
big empty spaces in your bed, dusty
lungs, bent wills, downtrodden pens,
lost spaces where you feel Earth
could be successful without your presence.

Practice boxing, snarling, growling,
staring, in order to show you have
a fierce soul ready to burst from
your chest.

You are not just recycled smiles...

I know how hard it is, especially, when
you think of reasons why you should be
living but don't believe them.
Where you start to secretly curse everyone
who exclaims happy thoughts or decides
to make something sour into something
desirable. You think of everyone else with
personal struggles yet you can't help but
feel as worthless as they once did.

Sometimes, you don't need reasons
or an abused past. There is a devil
gnawing at your bones and you only
want to be cleansed from its contempt.

But you must try,
try damn it!

Because there comes a point when you
can't hunch over anymore, when legs
moan and cramp, when you yearn for
what's not the best although

something still prompts the darkness to leave.

Be the living ashes, the cooling sand refusing
to drain into nothingness within that hourglass.
When you wake up, feet finding slippers and
arms itching in wool sweaters,
go to the window.
Open up the shades and finger-paint with your
sadness upon the frosted glass.
Write I AM HERE
over and over until frozen memories
are nodding and snow plows and children
building snowmen will come to you
to decipher the message.

Do frivolous, laughable things.
Make silly faces on silver backs of spoons
after they've been steamed in the dishwasher.
Hang glow-in-the-dark stars from your ceiling.
Dance while showering or conduct an orchestra
while stationed at a lazy railroad crossing.
Make cursive fashionable by inking the walls
with your favorite words. Taste them.
Live them.

Stop playing hide and go seek with past shadows
and have faith.
For a moment, for sixty seconds, just rest.
Dream of love,
of a world that is not composed of nightmares
or fantasy.

Promise me you'll try to teach your eyes to
seek this ground, rich with growth and love,

and train your heart to keep beating for that
palpable opportunity at love.

-
Wrote this days ago but wanted to sit on it. I didn't end up editing or changing that much though it felt good to give it more time.... I was wanting to record it before posting it, and did a few practices, but want to have the right background music for it, etc. So someday I hope to "perform" it and record it because after I wrote it, I really felt like this piece was something I could do that with and be comfortable with.

written 1/07/13 @ 1:45 AM