Traveling

I can envision myself doing this.

You all may hate car rides,

but I don't mind it one bit.

It's the only time I can go

to a world completely of my own.

I don't have to talk to people,

because I can just put my earbuds in

and watch as we pass by a million

other worlds in less than an hour.

It's the one time I can listen to music,

uninterrupted,

for long periods of time,

and be in a thousand different places

all at once.

Music is a transportation

device in my head,

and traveling is its helping aid.

It's almost like sitting on the computer,

listening to music, chatting with people

on omegle,

and surfing weheartit. Or tumblr.

But this is so much better.

I can see myself traveling,

ignoring people,

and coming back to life

when we reach our

unknown destination.

I can enliven those with music,

and go back

to my own hermit crab world,

without much trouble.

I realized a passion for solidarity

though I knew I had before,

but, I didn't realize was as strong.

Now I watch the mountains pass

and imagine myself singing

the words blaring in my ears,

waiting patiently,

oh so patiently,

for my arrival home.

Bittersweet.

This trip

The air tastes salty
and the sweat tastes sweet.
We're a mass of tangled arms
and legs,
rolling in the salt marsh,
getting filthy. Mud
on our hands and feet,
sand in our shoes,
shells in our hands,
the seawater burning
our scrapes and cuts.
We are a different version
of infinite,
one that ends
just like it never was
to begin with.
We have wings in our dreams
and we fly over the sand dunes,
laughing at our bodies
fighting the waves,
two in a canoe.
Our stories will be written
on our legs by the
stickers in the forest,
the scars they leave
tell something longer lasting
than words can ever try.
We will grow and scatter
and always remember
the versions of truth
we created in a weeks time,
rather than a lifetime.
Too obviously comfortable
to be torn apart so fast.
Annoyed and past our limits.
But that's always the best
kind of story.
One that never ends.

I hear tiny balls of rumors
dispersed like seeds, that find
eager, attentive minds
and grow into a tree of "fact".
I see whispers tossed back and forth
behind a closed door,
the very breath they were created in
spreading the disease from
one to another.
a mindset in this instance is caught
like the disease,
instead of made in the name of
a creative thought that is the backbone
of your perspective.
your parroted thinking isn't thought
through but blindly followed,
and I am a fish caught
swimming against the stream
of narrowed eyes in my direction
and daggers shot at my back.
knowledge in this instance
is gained by an unstable source;
the voice of an acquaintance
whom doesn't know the material
or subject quite as well
as they'd like to aknowledge.

misery is my only friend
for the next 5 days.
solitary is even a questionable occurrence.

broken

the world is full of empty people, those that
feign interest and happiness
in the routines of everyday life.
We walk sideways like crabs,
picking at the sand on misfortune,
trying to find some resemblance
of their glory days.
this world is full of shells,
colorful and decorated with smiles
and white teeth. but they cannot
hide the dullness in their eyes,
shiny or not they leak the truth
of despair in their souls.
of course no one i know is like that.
they've yet to be broken,
only now beginning to live their lives,
which 15 - 18 years of it have been wasted,
behind desks and chalkboards.

my world is a shattered dimension of this.
distorted through my hazel eyes.
somewhere not parallel to your own,
but somewhere far off,
a distant relative,
a second cousin
twice removed.
my world is shattered simply because,
the eyes are the window to the soul,
and my soul is broken.
and everything we see,
our perspective, if you will,
is our world. not shared with
anyone but one completely of
our own.
and if my soul is broken,
then my vision is distorted.
then my dimension is shattered.

my soul has been loosing pieces,
like a broken mirror,
whose sharp shards of glass
have fallen from the board they were glued to.
over time, not just with my few seconds of its life,
it has been repeatedly kicked, when down,
as the offender expects a fall
when they will not receive one.
my soul has lived a long time,
passed from generation to generation,
hand to hand,
always falling in the wrong ones.
now, the hand-me-down i've received is
far beyond its breaking point.
it is old, giving me infinite wisdom
on what to avoid and how to live.
wisdom i give to others and ignore myself. (ahaha)
but my soul is close to retirement,
its old age making the new body it was given
hard to keep in touch with.
heaven is calling and i know it must go.

my body is the only thing that will remain,
and my mind,
my beautiful mind,
will carry on with my soul.
the new one i am given,
might be too young.
what will happen to me?
to my creativity?
will i lose that as well?

Since you never give me a chance to explain myself in person

You think I'm just being this way to be this way.
You don't understand how bad of a week this has been.
I'm sorry I've been taking it out on you,
but I'm agitated because this came back.
Full fledged.

I'm hiding it behind misdirected rage
and tears that always threaten to spill over.
The truth is, I just don't give a rats ass about anything anymore.
I don't care.
If you take away this trip I have nothing to look forward to.
I've already been pushing away the idea, for so long,
but now its starting to seem more and more like my only option.

infinite

i think i finally understand what the meaning of "infinite" is...
(not the literal meaning)

last night i found that place of happiness again,
and it's stayed with me until today
until right now.

when the windows are down
and the music is blasted
and i can feel the bass in my gut...

but none of that would mean anything without friends.

and for the first time i went to a hookah bar.
experienced awkward there
experienced smoke bubbles
and laughed about the douchebags that come to that place.

but none of that would mean anything without friends.

i am vintage.

i think the definition of infinite is sundry.
definitely varying per person.
and my definition of infinite is

not filled up with happiness
but able to expand beyond that
to never end.
and to fill the infinity with whatever definition you give to happiness.

and i am infinite.

i believe in god

i also believe in gay marriage, abortions, medicine, and evolution.

but go ahead and condemn me to hell...
i mean, we're all god's children..
but im certain that if i were your actual blood sister,
you wouldnt judge me,
or say a word to me about the choices ive made that may
"defy" god.

religion is not the problem here
god is not the problem here

we are.