Many things can avert disaster.

A broken detonator,
dead batteries,
the big red button,
a sword,
a loving word,
fresh batteries,
a shield,
a helping hand.

You never know what calamity might be waiting.

All you can do is think about your actions
and what they might mean for the people around you.
Measure the good and bad.
Most of all
have compassion and love in your hearts.
Let them be the voices that guide you
as you choose which path to walk down.

Every moment that passes
is a step towards something new.
There'll be both good and bad along the way
and stuff far more undefined,
but it's your journey.
So why not enjoy it
​while it lasts?

Sleep gently tugs down
making drooping eyelids heavier.

I'm sure you've got other things you want to be doing.
Projects and goals you've set.
But what you want right now
doesn't really factor in.

Your soul is drained from another long day
and your body's not far behind.

So why don't you just give in this time
and not spend the next hour drifting
from dosing off to wakefulness again and again.
Let sleep whisk you away
​to a new world inside your head.

Summer heat
pulls the words from me.

They drip from my fingertips
and puddle
unusable
at my feet.

There's only so much I can fight
when it comes to dehydration
and 110+ degree weather.

It's a miracle
I'm writing this at all
and not passed out
on my couch.

Do you ever have those days
when at the end you crawl into bed
feeling like you're covered in the grime of minutes passed,
caked in half-remembered pointless moments,
and splattered with regrets for a day not fully utilized?

No-

Oh yeah, me neither.
I'm always the most completely productive person I can possibly be.
I do ALL the things.
Every day...
Definitely.

Well not today.
But most days.

…

Okay, I'm working on it?
Alright?
Sheesh. Get off my back.

I'm writing this poem, right?
That's something.

The eternal flame burns within you
stoking your soul into a blazing inferno.
What else do they expect from a fire elemental?
Someone calm, cool and collected?
How could they ever glance the creeping edge of a wild immolation
and think that you would be any less hungry and chaotic?
You don't belong amidst the domesticated folk.
Anyone who wishes to break and tame you.
They don't truly know who you are
or what incredible destruction you contain.
They can't appreciate the utter beauty
that is your eternal flame.

As the brilliant sun dims and dips behind the mountains
rosy sky fade into darkness.
But amidst that endless shadow above us
there emerge glimmering pinpricks
flickering in a celestial wind
but never blinking out.

We have always been drawn to them.
Looking up at objects and worlds so far removed from ours
but yet so close
that sometimes we feel that if we climbed up just one more peak
they'd be within our reach.
Maybe then we could pluck them from the heavens
and hold them.

I'd imagine they'd be cold
like ice sculptures
and they'd leave shimmering dust in my palms
long after I placed them back into the sky.

And the moon shall be as blood.
Pooling crimson above the earth
until it falls upon it in thunderous waves,
drowning fools and scholars alike.

Then the shadows hoards will march.
Countless beasts with rending teeth and tearing claw,
insatiable mouths stretched wide to devour any and all living flesh.

There will be no stopping them.
No halting their progress
or thinning their numbers.
For shadows are endless
and no sharpened stick or blade
can defeat that which has never lived.

So enjoy your world while it yet stands.
For once the blood tide begins
​there will be no stopping it.

Hiding your emotions won't help anyone.
Least of all, you.
Anger, grief, and frustration will hollow you out from the inside,
make you a dry husk of the person you once were.

I'm not saying,
to take them out on the cashier in front of you
or on a random stranger who bumps into you.

No, find someone you can trust,
maybe a therapist
or a hotline to talk to.
Then just let the words rush out in a torrent.

Talk, and keep talking,
and don't mind the tears or the clenched fists.
Those are just part of the process.

By the time you're done,
you'll feel a little empty at first.
Drained and tired.
But maybe a little free, too.
Because now the weight of what you talked about
won't be pressing down upon your shoulders anymore
or clinging to your ankles.

Never be afraid to talk to someone.
Because being overwhelmed and scared
will only harm you
and everyone else.
Your soul can only take so much weathering
by that particular acidicy.

I think the songbirds outside my window have insomnia.

There hasn't been even a sliver of sunshine
the tiniest trace of anything except night
in hours.
But for some godforsaken reason
they're still chirping and chatting away.

The sound of birdsong is more jarring at night.
A piece of natural music that's out of place.
Like it's been recorded and replayed
when someone should be missing it.

Instead being comforted
or lulled off to sleep
I just keep having moments of confusion
when I wonder why its so dark outside.