Distant

You seem to keep me distant and far away. So that you know where I am and that you feel secure and safe. 

You lack a sense of time and even thought. You feel my needs are senseless and are only based off of only need and thought. 

I am no one but yet someone when needed. But as of late there is no need for me at all. I think they prefer for me to stay where I am. To be out of site is to be out their mind. 

My failure is already on your mind and in no doubt is what you believe I am. 

You make me sad and feel un-loved. To you I am like a cow put out to pasture. You always know where she’s at and knowing that she’s going nowhere. 

You believe in love but hate is all you come to see in me. 

I am a good person and my heart is close to pure but has lost some of its color. Something that was once pink is now just has shaded a little less. 

And now that shat that once was is now headed towards shades of anger and hate. Fade to black. 

You judge me and forget me and hate me and who knows what else about me you come to think. 

I am not weak. I am strong and good. And can do and accomplish in a time more than you can imagine or even do yourself. You come to question my every move. You come to question my love. 

You question my soul and what I hope to become. 

Sitting

Cory Michael Johnson

            I’m sitting alone at this white painted table. It’s bright outside and I didn’t even bring my fucking sunglasses out with me again. Sometimes I do remember but mostly I come to forget. So, I close my eyes with the brightness of the sun on my eyelids and I can feel the heat of its rays come through and burn my corneas.

            Then suddenly, I feel that beautiful light breeze come hit the right spot on the back side of my neck. Tickle my ear. It is warm but refreshing and I hear the voices of the others around me and it makes me anxious. So, I tell myself to relax and take a nice long deep breath. Stay calm, I say to myself. I don’t want to, but I open my eyes again. Suddenly I am so anxious and nervous that I feel scared and my relaxation runs out of me like a flash of lightning.

            So, I tell myself to close my eyes and to hear back to that breeze. But it’s not the same breeze anymore. It’s cooler and stronger. My eyes tighten shut and my crow’s feet grow.

            But it feels good as that breeze feels great with its strength and its coolness. I can smell it now, that fresh smell of rain in the air. MMMM! I take a deep breath. Inhale and smile so, so slightly so that others cannot see.

            But I come to hear those voices and I can’t come to conclude if there coming from around me or if they are the ones that are within me. And I open my eyes again and I come to realize that they are the voices that are concealed within my own head. I tell them to go away but as usual they won’t. I’m so tired of hearing them day in and day out. And now that my eyes are open, I come to realize that it is darker outside and the sun hurts less on my eyes.

            I decide to close them again. My eyes of course. Ah! I sure do love that smell of rain in the air. “Memories oh so many memories.” The breeze is even so much cooler now and I can tell that there is a storm coming.

            But I don’t feel good and my calmness is all but gone. Now the storm is closer and it is darker than ever. But my eyes are still closed and it’s not just because my eyelids are jammed shut and tight. Something is wrong with me. I feel tears welling up in these eyes of mine. I’m out of words, and yet I’m not and full of so much to say, but still, I can’t.

            I slowly open my eyes again and now it's stormy and dark outside and all around me. Think it’s time to get up and move. And now I am coming to realize that pain is always just what it is and that is pain. And they confirm the something of where I am now? I mean I know where I am at and yet I don’t. Confusion, misunderstood and crazed as a manic depressive and a constant whiner.

            Complain, complain, conform, and commit. Get over it, not only do they say. But I do as well as I can or think I can. Why write of things and feelings that are inside of me. My thoughts are just that, thoughts. It’s the actions that become the real thrill in this life of mine.

            To be who I am is to become what I try not to. Love me or hate me but decide what you want. Things are very real and I’m starting to find out that I am not a wooden boy.