Category Archives: Dark

Hidden Sunny Demeanor

 

“You lose control when you hold too tight, and turn your head long enough to let it bite. ‘Cause faith left me staring at the ceiling through the night. It’s freaking me out.” ~Copeland

Child Torn Box Girl Eye Hiding Young Boy HoleLightning striking twice.
The tide rolling towards the Midwest.
Tornadoes on the coast.
And fires taking flight in the clouds.

An upside down way of thinking.
A class 2 comet approaching my brain.
Driving home the point that I am better than the parts that have been given to me.
And the through lines that exist exaggerate the need to make sure I make it through the day.

Hello, equal parts water and soul.
A skin and bones kind of problem.
Or maybe it is a dilemma?
Whatever it is, I’ve decided to pray above it.

The wind is picking up.
The howling overtaking my ears.
The need to get up and leave takes over.
And if I come back I hope that the screaming dissipates.

When I can’t figure out the solution and the frustration clouds my judgement,
I decide it is better to fight with anger than with rationale.
Of course that is not the course of action that pleases my biggest fans.
And it surely doesn’t please the Love that has given me the reason to be alive.

I need to accept I can’t be good at everything.
Or even accept that maybe there is something that I actually do well.
Whatever it is, I pray to grasp onto it,
Before the storms go haywire and my head implodes upon this desolate Earth.

The howling takes its toll and then maybe peace will come.
Remember Matt, they like you for you.
Don’t become someone you are not because you don’t feel good enough.
Feelings are fickle and love is a choice, not an over dramatic feeling fueled by Hollywood cameras.

Lightning striking twice.
The tide rolling towards the Midwest.
Tornadoes on the coast.
And fires taking flight to the clouds.

What a ride we’ve been on.
Diving into the clouds, and flying in the ocean.
I am on my knees praying for more than good relationships.
I’m praying that the one relationship that truly matters is strengthened.
For He is what supplies my hidden sunny demeanor.

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The Art of Anxiety

“Our hearts, our souls, are shallow empty holes. We sing this anthem for us all…Oh, God we’re so alone. Just close your eyes and sing along…Let’s go. We are the lost souls.”

~Asking Alexandria


It comes upon you with no indication.
A feeling that grips onto your insides like a disease.
It hopes to knock you out.
It hopes to cripple you into your bed.

It is so hard to wake up.
To go about your day.
Moving seems to be a struggle with each passing day.
This bed is now my home…why can’t I let it go.

I extend my hand in front of my face.
I see my fingers are attached to it.
Turning and looking at these digits from all angles.
Wondering if I am capable of using them for something other than this bed.

A palpable depression that fills my room with smoke.
I choke and I cough.
I don’t get up because it is a relief to suffocate.
Until the world falls apart and you realize the day is gone.

I blink once or twice for a couple hours at a time.
I shift my weight to support my unwinding psyche.
My hand in front of my face.
My fingers and hands moving in a grotesque fashion.

A Gothic mindset of ghosts and haunted houses.
Running by sitting.
Thinking by sleeping.
This is the art of anxiety when the weather changes.

Do we feel alive when we try?
Prying and tearing at my insides before giving in.
Too tired to ask God for help.
This is what the art of anxiety feels like when it hits.

A canvas of mediocrity.
A pallet consisting of neutral colors.
The art of anxiety is one of complex minimalism.
Brush strokes that take the whole day to make.

It comes upon you with no indication.
A feeling that grips onto your insides like a disease.
It hopes to knock you out.
It hopes to cripple you into your bed.

But I was wondering…
Would you like a balloon?
It’s red and cute.
Maybe it will take you home?

Religious Experience (Fireworks)

“I’m just a manic depressive. Toting around my own crown. I’ve got a positive message. Sometimes I can’t get it out.”  ~Brand New

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A religious experience through and through.
With the words of Brand New.
Jesse is singing, “I’m just a manic depressive.” 
Is the truth being told while I watch the fire overhead?

Fireworks explode.
The colors are shown.
I see the reds, whites, and blues,
But it is a different country that I pursue.

Is my world a contradiction that I call my own?
Or is it a search for a place that I think is my home?
A religious experience that isn’t necessarily one I knew.
The difference is, it is a mix of fireworks and Brand New.

I am looking for a color that is my own.
A game played between shades that I already know.
Experience dictating the feelings in my blood.
Spewing out like the sparks that start off small and spread out above my head.

These fireworks are memorizing the sky.
Sparking imagination.
Turning my eyes toward places that I never saw before.
While this music is playing in my head.

A gun shot is just as loud.
A boom like the fire against this night sky.
I am having a religious experience.
Even though I don’t have anyone’s hand.

“I’m just a manic depressive.” Those are the lyrics the song says.
The night a distraction, filled with lights, emotion, music, and religion.
So many colors light up the sky tonight.
So many memories colliding together.

When the music takes you and the scenery is beautiful.
It fills you up and takes you under its wing.
With a taste of wine and the breaking of the bread.
It is a religious experience that I just had. 

Do You Ever Look Back?

Do you ever take a look back.
Back in time to see the ones that loved you,
The ones that wronged you,
Or maybe the ones that should have gotten more attention?

Do you ever wonder what life would be like if you went right instead of left,
Took that train instead of taking the other,
Gone back to the girl that smiled when you passed by,
Or jumped up instead of ducking?

I think that we all have times when we reflect a little too much.
Where we don’t hesitate to establish a connection to the past.
Or when we take a deep dive into what if…?
But I think that periodic trips are more useful than dwelling.

For your home is what you have right now.
The hearth is the heart that beats at the present.
It is not the dusty mantle where childhood pictures are toppled,
Or the open door to the portraits made from past regrets.

Do you ever enter into the future to check the past?
What about the present,
Is it too much to ask for a reprieve from where we are now?
Is your home as warm as it was before?

Do you ever take a look back?
Do you take a vacation to better times?
Do you regret the moment you didn’t take your life?
Is it hard to steer away from prior heartbreaks and spilled milk?

Take heart.
You are here right now, alive and beautiful.
Take heart.
Your home can be rebuilt.

Do you ever look back?
I sure do.
I believe that we all sometimes need to.
At least that is the case for me.

Do you ever look back?
Do you look for the now?
Do you look ahead?
Which one looks better to you?

Morning Sickness

“Every lament is a love song.” ~Switchfoot

He stands on the edge of his mind and his heart.
Largely distracted by what is going on around him, and what is going on inside. 
Which one will win?
He knows, but he doesn't feel like telling and one. 

A morning sickness that has nothing to do with pregnancy.
A sickness developed from opening his eyes and realizing he is alive.
Stricken to his sheets, the ones that feel like home.
For the floor is lava and o scary to venture into alone.

Ducking and diving in and out.
Avoiding the fire that's coming from all around him.
The gun sight is set to his heart and others to his head.
One good shot and everything goes away, from them or even from the one he is carrying.

But the truth is he doesn't want this to be the case.
I don't think any of us really do.
But sometimes this world seems to be too much, and all he wants is to be somewhere else.
With someone who will never forsake him.

He sits alone on the porch that looks out into the yard.
A storm is brewing and the lightening is coming at regular intervals.
The wind picks up and the trees start to sway to the beat.
Clap clap, bang bang, flash flash...boom. 

His funeral is tomorrow and not an eye is dry.
Closed casket in the morning and sandwiches with aunts in the afternoon.
"We should get together more often." They will say.
"What an awful way to get the family together."

Leaving behind the mother and the father.
A part of the world ripped away by one single act.
Friends that loved  him, now on the floor wondering what they could have done better.
Wondering what they could have done to help him fly...

She’s in Love with Chaos

“She was a wreck. but he loved her. She was a wreck, but so was he.” ~Copeland

 

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It looks like a heartache waiting to happen.
When the phone hits the floor and she is left alone.
The other line dead and the voice has stopped.
And the drumming from her head is working harder than her heart.

She’s in love with chaos.
The ups and the downs.
The lefts that are actually rights, her mind begging to be found.
She’s in love with chaos.
The unknown, is the start of her disorganization alone.

Picking up the pieces and moving one.
Going from one phone to another waiting to belong.
Not trying to hard to sing a better song.
All she does is wait for heartache, to become her white and black swan.

She’s in love with chaos.
The deaf tones of awkward lies.
The messed up deliveries of sought after lines.
She’s in love with chaos.
With her mind, taking deep breaths and taking names that she must find.

Sectioned off and in the crowd.
Determined for more than a sour sound.
But not giving it enough effort or follow through.
The choice is hers, even though she’ll never limit herself to a few.

She’s in love with chaos.
The ups and the downs.
The lefts that are actually rights, marked with hearts waiting to be found.
She’s in love with chaos.
Heartbreak brought on, by late night phone calls and luck based falls.

She’s in love with chaos.
And the Lord knows…
That one day maybe her eyes will see the light being shown.
She’s in love with chaos and the rest.
For one moment she breaks and finally passes a test.

When You Realize

“If you could let the pain of the past go, of your soul. None of this is in your control.” ~Switchfoot 
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My soul is thirsty and my heart has been broken.
I am crying out to all the things that I believe will make me whole.
The bottle and the strength of self,
The songs of those not inspired by the True Love.

My soul is thirsty and my heart is broken.
I am fine in the mornings and then it hits as I wake.
A storm eating into the very being of me.
Knowing I am hurt a bit more than the thing that hurt me.

When you put your whole heart into something without God it will not last.
When you try and do it by yourself it will fall apart.
When the thing you are next to is being held onto a little to tight.
When you realize you let your past dictate the way you respond to the present.

All these realizations come in waves.
Yet here I stand still trying to do it on my own.
I need to relinquish control because none of this is actually mine to conduct.
I need to let the pain of my past go away and apply it to the next beauty that comes my way.

For I screwed up.
I was the problem.
I held tight.
Instead of letting myself be guided by the light.

My soul is thirsty and my heart broken.
It seems to be getting better everyday.
I am sorry to say that even Nintendo is not letting me stay happy today.
I need something more and a guiding hand from the One who gave it all.

This world will not do,  especially when it feels I am running from you.
Wondering if they were even ready?
Or if it was completely me?
Because that is my perspective all the way.

Get out.
Get out and leave my head.
Get out and let me raise my hand to thee.
Get out and let me see through eyes that can become clean.

My soul is thirsty and my heart is broken.
Hurting from the possibility that is now lost.
I must look to the Word that was spoken.
For this word is alive and breathing life back into my tired and thirsty soul.

In the end it was short.
But when you believed you have found it…
When you believed your hope was justified.
It hurts like it was a star burning out right before it could be truly bright.