Buildings

I often dream about being lost in huge buildings.
These buildings I dream of have have beauty interior,
although they possess exterior protected by weathered brick.
Some buildings, however, are crumbling, and
sometimes I am in them as they are being demolished.
I am standing in the buildings, observing celebration,
such as the graduation of my inner child; or conflict,
such as my battle between happiness and depression.
I dreamed last night that I was in a building, lost,
but familiar with the place I once learned how and what.
I dreamed of clothes and plush toys, and losing consciousness.
I dreamed of the protection inside the building
as the quirky man ran over to catch my fragile body
before it was able to hit the cold concrete ground-
eyes fluttering as patterns of triangles on blue walls
captured my attention- and his distorted and blurry voice
asking if I was okay, and if I had been so tired that I was not aware
that I was sitting in only the highest chair, looking up, up, up.
I dreamed of clothes and plush toys, and finally getting help.
I dreamed of the people around me, holding me close,
while I cried that my life was in shambles and I couldn't take any more-
slowly walking with a friend, a mentor, who taught me to use
the voice that had so unexpectedly been accepted, although
I was still afraid it wasn't good enough for projecting- and
love filled the building as the long letters of recommending assistance
with the inner mechanisms of my mind and dirty clothes
and scattered plush toys and patterns of walls and crumbling buildings
and buildings already gone and new buildings rising and dreaming-
I woke up- and remembered everything about what it means
to care for the little girl and care for the big girl that is I.

-LJ
23 October 2016

Common

I woke up.  

After everything,

 I was awake.  

My frail frame, 

struggling to pick itself up,

 and my pale skin, 

yearning for 

the light of common day.  

But nothing 

was ever common... 

not after that.

  

-LJ

17 October 2016

i heard the soft sound of rain once.

I heard the soft sound of rain once,

and it sounded like the pitter-patter

of staccato fingers to antique keys,

as every ebony and ivory pitch

created scars of beauty into

the ears in which it found sanctuary.

LJ

20 October 2016

If I Ever Knew Myself

If I ever found myself

from the maze inside my brain,

I would take this newfound knowledge

and be myself again.

If I ever saved myself

from the bullies in my mind,

I would not listen to their voices

and leave them all behind.

If I ever knew myself,

from what myself knows now,

I would take back my simple life

and decide what I'd allow.

If I ever keep myself,

from letting demons in,

I would care for body, soul,

and not let evil win.

-LJ

18 October 2016

Parasite

A fickle fight, you bring to my troubled mind!
The way you shut me down and wear me out
is a tactic I wish you no longer were capable of.

Such cruel suggestions, you whisper in my ear!
The way you persuade and masquerade
is a voice I wish you no longer possessed.

Yesterday, to fight your wicked schemes,
I wrapped right ankle, left wrist, with long ribbon,
so I could dance around you and feel peace within myself.

Great persistence, you keep your solemn ground!
The way you attach to me like a parasite
is a burden I wish you no longer had upon me.

-LJ
18 October 2016

The Sun & I

The sun looks friendly, 

but I am still afraid—

the chipper chirping

rings in my ear

like white noise

drilled into the drywall

of my skull.

The sun looks kind,

but I am still weary—

the light of day

blinds my poor eyes

like grotesque images

that won't leave me.

The sun looks beautiful,

but I am still inferior—

the stellar star, 

incomparable by far,

looms over me

like the storm cloud ahead.

The sun looks fearless,

but I am still afraid.

The sun looks on,

but I am still weary.

The sun looks so inviting,

but I am still waiting

for the day when I

see the sun, and

greet him with open arms.

-LJ

15 October 2016

Shadow Man

Shadow Man, with long dark arms, and long dark legs,

tall as any given fear;

why have you come to me, however far

however near?

Is your joy in frightening me, in any way,

in any shape or form?

Is your hiding place inside my thoughts,

in my catastrophic storm?

Shadow Man, you know very much,

all of me there is to know;

of every trickling tear when hands

refuse to let me go.

Pinning me down, stripping me

right on solid ground,

your forceful possession of my detection

steals my sight and sound.

Shadow Man, I must say

your anonymous face, so dead

has taken form, intimidating me as you place

the gun against my head.

Your knack to twist the scene and take

each book off the shelf,

as it is replaced with the sight of mirrors

and frames of me killing myself.

But, Shadow Man, you've not come back

in quite the longest time.

Why not, my precious nightmare, creator

of only what is mine?

Perhaps you're still a Shadow Man, waiting,

for the time so right

that you could creep inside my thoughts, inside my dreams,

and give me Hell another night.

-LJ

6 & 7 October 2016