Scene 164: Everyday

The blank papers sit

and the screen glows

drawing

from my soul

pictures,

stories,

life

and the words

color my memories

Scene 163: Immunity

The night failed to bark

as the virus trolled about

up to the horizon

between the day and the dark

and under the archway

his feet leaked

onto the porch

and through the screen

Scene 162: Fate

It's the Christmas in your voice

and Valentine's in your eyes,

the charms and styles and smiles and wiles

of your amber sweet-toothed joys

The velvet of your breath

and the silk of your hair

the giggles and strides and wiggles and asides

that'll bring about my death

The slender lines of your pens

and the colors that paint the tips

the grips and snaps and touches and claps

that make hairs stand on end

It's everything about you

from your outside on in

the good and awful and sweet and lawful

the justice so true

that speaks to my heart

and pounds in my soul

breaking the gold in my knees

Don't worry about a thing

No perfection do you lack

for I'm already in love

I only wait

until we meet

Yeah, this is unusually sappy, I know. I'm just feeling like a romantic right now.

Taking a breath to stop chasing and just to wait.

I really do believe in soulmates and love at first sight.

You have a love in your heart, a perfect person you'll know immediately.

And when you know, you won't have to do a thing, won't have to say a thing, won't have to hear a thing

Because you're already in love.

You just have to meet your lover.

Scene 161: Gifts from the Doctor

Dancing among the bottles
filled with little submarines
reversed in nature
blue, green, red
piled high
like dogs
promising hope
and whispering under their breath
waiting to flood
with a dose of escape

Scene 157: Finality

Humbly, fingers weep

dried with the touch of velvet

as the ceased body washes across

the black ocean, dashed

with clouds and stripes

ebbing with the time,

and losing its ticket home

Scene 156: Delusions

The fall of the clouds ushered in dreams

which floated to the sky

to take their place

but provided

no shade

And the fall of the clouds covered the people

who slipped on them

too busy looking

at the sun

unprotected

Scene 155: Young Stars

Drinking stars in pillow darks

Twinkling dreams so juvenile

Asking stories from constellations

Burning fiercely all the while

Scene 154: Dreamless

Trailing the sand between your toes that cry for your eyes

Your gaze lingers to and fro for the rime in your lies

The dreams in your head long for an escape

But the morning in your heart keeps you awake

Scene 153: Green Nature

We drink in emeralds

as natural as water

eyes glowing with what we imbibe

Scene 152: Diminished Purpose

The miner man scales the tunnels

humming his song flatly,

drearily

keeping his sanity

Scene 151: Your Puzzle

A splatter of cloud

fell on my umbrella

and danced around my feet

I look at the fallen cloud on the floor

reflecting its home

and I put it in my pocket

to take home

Scene 150: Automated

Hate-painted fingers,

Sports-dirty nails

Straightened black manes,

Cropped, dirty hair,

Duct-tape billfold,

American Eagle wallet

All trying to redeem

all green eyes to the screen

waiting on the machine

on a return for their dreams

Scene 149: Out of the Halls

Opaque black

against violent whites

confusion, panic

strikes and rings

surround and line up

full of meaning and purpose, intents

an invasion

mental, and emotional

preaching chaos

Scene 148: Wrath

Blind,

the eye of the storm

rages quietly

its ripples

overturn

life

This week, obviously, the theme became the 7 Deadly Sins, which I found actually fun to try and depict. By far, I had the most difficulty with this last one. Wrath is too furious to be put into a grand picture, I feel.

Anyway, it's been a while since I've written anything about me. Not that it's important, but it helps me straighten things out.

I'm back at school. Winter break has finally ended and I've been in my dorm room since Saturday. Back with friends and the freedom of just living in the moment.

I've missed it.

First classes are tomorrow. I'm excited. Poetry, playwriting, and Sign Language. It's going to be a blast.

Other than that, no major outward changes, I feel.

I just feel... Great. Life is great. The world is great. And people are great.

I don't know what happened this winter break, but my outlook on life is unbelievable positive, and I am determined to ride it out and see where it goes.

It's a great feeling.

Simply being content and waking up to life.

Scene 147: Envy

Lips cracked, fracturing like wax wings

fists clenched,

arms reaching, slithering like a temptress,

mouth watering,

eyes sniping, glowing like Ireland

Scene 146: Gluttony

The still life, dripping with oils,

secreting fumes, extravagant and rich

The colors so vibrant, radiantly broils

as hungry eyes water, and fingertips twitch

longing for a taste of those impressionisms,

that will never sate any realisms

Scene 145: Greed

Fingers painted, wrapped tightly

listening for static in the thirsty grains

trying to strike it like Indiana

Counting your fingers, you grip with them all

hugging Picassos to your lungs

to fill their voracious breath

all the while

drinking like Midas

Scene 144: Sloth

Lumbering about,

mindless, dulled and sluggish

wasting away, sitting on a red rocking chair

spineless, flat and ruggish

trailing fingers

across woolen numbers

Slumbering down,

dreamless, stuck and fading

squandering time, breathing in linen air

steamless, struck and jading

staling eyes

filled with sandy members

Scene 143: Lust

Flowing, pumping,

breathless energy

Starving, grasping,

shameless symphony

Scene 142: Pride

Breathing in bubbles,

breathing out smoke

the heat in your lungs

and the heat in your head

inflated your hands

but deflated your heart

Scene 141: Bitter Revenge

Pouring him a shot of rum

you'd never thought

that he would say what he'd just said

and by the time he drank that rum

you couldn't have fought

the breath he breathed upon his death

Scene 140: Judgement

The storm flickers

on and off,

dripping with disgust

and swiftly

restarts

Scene 139: Entitlement

Walking on clouds

with your head above the sun

pocketing stars

to load your jealous gun

Scene 138: Nightmare Days

Drinking in that apple cider

you'd remember the witches and black widow spiders

that conjured up spells and fears in the night

with a cracked smile shining no white

the fingers and toes would reach toward your body

counting your woes in accordance to nobody

sitting on stakes and lying on bibles

you'd stay awake crying false libels

Scene 137: Black

Soothing night

armoured in stars

pulling down the curtain of day

over your eyelids

and giving you

rest

Scene 136: White

White is the color,

dark and murky

viciously voicing

its sound

Bright is the sound,

muddled and cacophonous

deafeningly dazzling

its taste

White is the taste,

infinite and mysterious

brilliantly blinding

its color

Scene 135: Over Apples

The green apples

stare at the red

longing

wishing

wanting

for their sweet hue,

their vibrant juices,

cursing

their birth

Scene 134: The Bad Love Story

Breathing in poison from a bed of nails

the nectar drips seductively

from the rust

Drinking in stones from an ocean of jails

the fumes waft convulsingly

from the lust

Scene 133: Dreamed

The dream floated about

blue and stout

dreaming of

becoming true

Scene 132: Drunk

Cherry pineapples

and apple wines

such intoxication

kissing lips

full of sweet

and drunk

promises

Scene 131: Oasis (and her Lips)

Searching through the desert mob

looking for the Oasis

her sandy hair

and clear blue eyes

so invigorating, but

lost

in the dense dunes

Reaching his dry hands through the syrup sands

sweat-stained and grimy

the Lips float about

crinkling red

and fraying white

pleading, yet

struggling

against the grains

Panting breath fogging his reflection

agains the Oasis' palms

he drinks about deeply,

the resounding ripples

of purple passions,

blossoming, and Lips,

he gives birth

to another beating ruby

Well, it was an incredible year.

My last semester of high school was amazing. My first summer graduated was magical. And my first semester of college was life changing. Undoubtedly.

So much has happened this year, and I can see myself changing so rapidly, that I can hardly believe it.

It's how it is, I suppose. It makes you wonder how much control you really have over yourself. Things move too fast, and they just slip out of control.

All you can do it ride with it, write out your spirit, take a look in your rear view mirror, and keep flying.

Here's to a wondrous year.

And here's to another one to come.

234 more poems to go.

Wish me luck.