These things will break


These things shall be shaken that we cling to. Only eternal which for am moment seems forever out of reach will rise to stay. We can’t stay forever, souls will push through, prevail despite the common efforts of men that fall as dust.

We are made through adversity, the tearing of old layers to form new . The maker does not pull us away from fire, but rather pushes us through it weakness and insecurities are purged as nothing.

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Saving self

When you create an end to the breaking point….

Everything that’s broken will eventually become healed in time.

I flashed childhood off the silhouettes in the bedroom my mother let me sleep in.

Hanging sideways off edge. Sharing space with a toddler and pregnant wife.

I cried tears inside, but grit my teeth to prevent them from pouring out into oceans from pint up bitterness.

I almost hated me, tearing to the last fabric of self confidence until nothing.
Thin air carrying every mistake past the moonlight.

Note: This was written on the spot with little to know proofreading. I honestly just had to allow these emotions to pour out of me. I hope at least one person will be inspired. 

Same, tomorrow?


Like birds, my hands flew from 7th story 
Windows welcoming ills of city air.
Watching the pavement blend with the faces of pedestrians.
Again, tomorrow I’ll open windows 
To stumble through a different scent,same scenery. 
Phone rings. Mother’s voice slides 
The conscience from its compartment.
Hands return blistered with blood same color as my skin.