a lack of color.
this is fact not fiction.Archive for musings literary magazine.
life is short, but sweet for certain.
When all else fails, paint you’re the sky. When all else fails, wash your hands and let the dirt from today become a particle of what we know as trash, mistakes. Let it go, wave goodbye as it floats on and becomes your smile. When all else fails write a letter to yourself, and tell all of your darkest secrets, reach deep within. Read them until you have them written on your face, breathe them in until you are no longer ashamed. Swallow them whole, without the cracks, the missing pieces, and the dripping sweat of things remembered; reasons to hide whoever it is that you are. Raise your glass to imperfections, count them if you may, and put them in row, next to the perfect person, smile because that is how much more knowledge you will have. And maybe you’ll have to make the same mistake twice before your brain fits it perfectly as a new reason to seek out hope. When all else fails, pretend your good enough to be something, and maybe one day you might actually walk the path you’d planned. When everything changes, and everything fades, tell yourself its supposed to happen that way, and you’ll get through. When lying fails, tell the truth – don’t tell yourself you are only human because we can be so much more. Break down the barriers, and be more than just beating hearts, and outlines, and veins that you can only feel when life is running low. Be one with everything, and maybe one day you will find your way into everything possible. You will be the essence for everything that was once just barely here. Give life not a reason to be any less than it is
I would rather be stuck up in a tree, then tied to it.
What makes you stop to think?
Is it that silence when a song has ended, and the other one is just on the tip to starting over, leaving you with a second to hear yourself? Whatever it is, I hope you hear a part of me for whatever your ears have thirsted. And when you fall down, I hope I’m the gravel stuck in the cracks of your knees. When you finally stand up again, I hope I’m the air causing your skin to come clean. What makes your heart shiver? When you’ve finally realized that you’re all on your own, there isn’t anyone here to make you breathe, there isn’t any air left to help you fly free. When you’ve finally reached the highest point, I hope I’m the wind keeping you unsteady, but deep down you know I’m the struggle that’s given you strength. Maybe I’m just dreaming that one day my face will be painted in every smile, but it’s a nice dream to close my eyes to. And if everything works out our way, do we all get our face on a billboard, so when it’s pouring down and you’re screaming your lungs out to no one, you can look up, and you’ll see the light, shinning on words and insight about how I lost 5 pant sizes by popping pills and eating my broccoli. But maybe by then my teeth can blind you, instead of my integrity. Or maybe it’s my integrity that’s blind. I don’t have the words to tell you you’ll be fine, and I don’t have the heart to let you down again. I know I can give you hope, I have it bottled up inside of me, and I’ll let you explore my caves and find hidden messages, and you’ll ask how my wings have come this far, and I’ll open my eyes and let you stare straight into who I am. You’ll have to step over the cracks, and the shedding walls, but sometimes you’ll find streams of soul. When I blink I hope you remember what I’ve done to sing you songs. And after they’re over I hope I’m the melody still ringing in your ears, because without verses and tanglements of clutter, who knows when the next time life will let us hear. My insides are always bleeding, but dreams have numbed the core. I put the con in conceited, but I still have thousands more of my secrets to spread to the world. Let me in, I’m not as tough as you think.
carissa kerpen