Smoke In The Eyes 

Late night “word processing.” Writing helps let the words out maybe I didn’t say during the day or even years ago. Let’s be real, we don’t speak 100 percent of our mind 100 percent of the time. Well–some people may, but I wonder how they fare in life. So it’s good to let words go and land somewhere, even if they don’t make sense or aren’t understood by other people. And maybe someone, even if it’s one person, may identify and catch the wind of what you’re saying. So write on. Getting thoughts out of your internal world and relinquishing countless harboring unspoken things will alleviate so much pressure internally and give you room to breathe. At least that’s the case for me. It’s a great means of healthy processing. 

I sometimes think that maybe if I could get back to where I was, today would be better. 
But that’s not true.

That’s the problem with ghosts, they tend to haunt you.
Time to bury the past,

Here I am,

Movie is playing,

All new cast.
Here’s a scene change,

But you remain.
Run it again to remember,

Or maybe forget.

We’re all in process,

It’s unscripted,

It’s not what I depicted.

I saw ten years ago,

I knew this was coming,

I saw it before, 

So I refuse to keep running.
Here I stay,

Surrendering all my expectations,

Still gripped with anticipation,
In this burning room,

Flames consuming every fear.
I’ll dance in this fire,

As long as your near.

Yeah, I’ll dance in this fire,

I know you’re here. 
With smoke in my eyes,

This wilderness is easily despised,

Then I catch your gaze,

And again I’m set ablaze.

I won’t rush to turn the page,

I’ll be present,

I won’t disengage,

I’ll see you face to face.

For the longest time this burning room felt like a cage, 

the bitter smell of burning, 

now has a sweetness I can taste. 


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