#WriteFree365 – Day 196: “Song Cry”

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(Today was very interesting, mentally.  And this song is so perfect to write to, despite not sticking to the subject matter.  And I had to use the unplugged version because it helps to get lost in thought.  Day 196…)

But I can’t let you know it.  Pride won’t let me show it..

Pride
Keeps me from shedding tears
Doing something that a man isn’t supposed to do
Show signs of weakness
Fallacies created by storytellers too afraid to let their eyes see the rain

Cry.
Don’t just sob in your stanzas
Let droplets fall
Wash your ego clean
That ego can be the margin keeping you from filling pages with vulnerability
Make your sheets as sensitive as your soul
Make your soul as sensitive as loose leaf under faucet
Words stain on paper
They don’t on heart.

#WriteFree365 – Day 192: Allure

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(If you catch me on the right day, this is my favorite Jay-Z song.  It’s perfect.  I decided to flip it, because every writer uses the drug metaphor.  Day 192…)

But the allure of the game keeps calling your name.  To all the Lauras in the world, I feel your pain.  To all the Christys in every cities, and Tiffany Lanes, we all hustlers in love with the same thing…

I used to feel
Every time I shoot medicine from the pen
That though the high was incredible
I was killing myself.
The better the product
The more destructive it was to my soul

Rereading further breaks the fourth crack commandment
It may not seem that big
But for an abuser like me
Using interferes with distribution

That’s the problem with having such good drugs
A sample becomes a social hobby
And that hobby becomes addiction
Then you’re in hole in the wall buildings
Trying to get a fix
And other authors just don’t get me high enough.

Reviewing my own words
Tearing into those veins again
Puts me through so much pain
Family isolated
Those who care,
I wouldn’t dare let me see my crumbling self
Breaking down
Mixing into the paper
Until I’m just a collection of lines
Laid out for another like me.

But I love the drug
So many words manufactured
That those that go without being ingested are discarded vials of potential
Wasted
on nouns, verbs, adjectives
Vivid sentences that temporarily lift my spirit
Making me forget the hurt today applied
And tomorrow is waiting to inflict

I used to believe
I am one needle use
One pipe inhalation
Away from dying
That the high
Stopped being a thrill
And became laced with death’s inevitability.
Now why am I still using?

#WriteFree365 – Day 67: Picasso Baby

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(This song has gotten better to me over time.  It’s a similar feeling I want for the things that I write.  Day 67…)

Oh, what a feeling.

I just want a Picasso
In my notepad
In my asylum
The place where I reside to
While normality calls me crazy
I just make art.

I want an exhibit
I want a gallery
I want to be adored by the Universe for what I did with the responsibility it gave me.
Wishing among stars might seem insane
But when you see one give life to your world every day
That request doesn’t seem so outlandish.

I just want a Picasso
To turn the scrambled pastels in my conscience into something celebrated
What’s being understood without being appreciated?
Are those in tandem?
Can what the art is be admired without knowing why the art is?

I just want time to never erode my understanding
Appreciate my appreciation
I’ve seen La RĂªve on the wall
It may appear that my dreams extend beyond reality
Infinity is a palette in my pen
So writing them makes them tangible to me.