I met someone.

More than someone.

And we didn't really meet.

We collided...

Instantly piecing together like a puzzle.

Without even trying.

Fuzing.

Now my days and nights are filled with her collisions.

And I hope they never stop.

I pick up another card, a four of spades - not what I needed - my hand grows with cards, flowering and falling. I dig into the stack of cards in front of me, now knowing the root of my problems is my hands being too small, 'till I find the right one. I reach into a bowl of dried fruit, nuts, and seeds. "Hurry up, hoe! God damn," my best friend yells at me from the other side of the table. Taking a sip of water, hardy, I continue, trying to keep my calm.

I wonder why the hardy winter always stays longer than spring

With just a spade I’d dug myself into a grave

A plan has taken root in my mind

Not long 'till its ready to bear fruit

I'm gripping the hoe of freedom so tight my knuckles are white

'Cause I know it'll pave my path to success

My fear only grows by the second

But I've watered my doubts for long enough

I refuse to let them pick my mind

It's time I let the seeds of doubt crumble and fall

And wait for my flowering hope to dig my way out

A hardy handshake, greeted me, as soon as I walked into the living room.

I had spent years try to root around and dig myself out of the massive black hole that had swallowed my existence.

I grow. Only Because I know the taste of silence. Forced to pick my poison, I washed it down with spirited water.

Bourbon and branch, and working my fingers to the bone. Till my labors were finally flowering. And bore fruit.

The top three reasons my dad has a smile plastered on his face at the moment…

Stories of this fruit:

A seed fund.

A gold digging hoe.

And David Spade.

Death is a dark and looming fate,

A specter that we cannot escape.

It waits for us at every turn,

In every breath that we must earn.

It steals our loved ones in the night,

And fills our hearts with endless fright.

We fear it more than we can say,

For it will come for us one day.

We run from it, but cannot hide,

It follows us with silent stride.

It takes us when our time has come,

And leaves behind an empty home.

No matter how we try to fight,

Death will come, and we will take flight.

So let us live each day with care,

And cherish all the love we share.

For when our time on Earth is done,

We'll join the ones we've loved and gone.

We'll rest in peace and finally see,

That death is just a part of eternity

If I were without my problems who would I be?

All these problems play their role in me being me.

Although, not all of my problems seem fair

These problems of mine are my cross to bare

May they be mental, physical or emotionally earned

Within these problems are lessons I have learned

without any and all of problems I wouldn't be me.

So without my problems who would I be?

I've spent time trying to figure you out, to explain why you do what you do. I suppose it's possible that your daddy made you feel less than, or your mama told you that you'd never make it out of Georgia. It almost made me feel better, trying to solve the puzzle you are, because if I did that, then I would know the reason that you treat me like shit is bigger than us both. But then I get to thinking some more, and it strikes me that even if you have what they call capital T trauma these days, where's the line where you say enough is enough? That all the pain and hurt in the world can't justify you raining it down upon me tenfold? I am working so hard to find the humanity in you so that I don't lose it in myself, so that I am not so consumed by rage and sorrow that I become a black hole that sucks the joy out of everything around me. But on the bad days, and today is one of those days, I keep on thinking still, that just because someone is in a position of power doesn't mean they did anything right to get there. It doesn't mean they're smart, or brave, or deserving. In fact, on today's upside down Earth it's probably more likely that you got there by lying, cheating, deceiving - knocking people down as you go and smiling while you do it, working your way up the ladder of a system that was designed for folks like you to use it this way. And if that's the case, that means life really is unfair and no amount of hollering I ever do is going to make one lick of difference. There's nothing I can do to knock that crown off your head because the game is rigged against me and the only thing there is is to let you force me out, convince me that the only option I have is to leave to save myself, and to be okay with it. To be okay with you still sitting upon your throne built on top of the bodies you burned on the way to the cushion that cradles your ass. When all is said and done, what's the point of anything at all? I think.

Maybe one day I’ll tell you the story about the flowers in the meadow

I’ll make it sweet, honeysuckles and dandelions

Weeds nipping at your ankles, so you ran to the tree-line

Laughing for hours

I’ll make it last forever

I lassoed a cloud for you, but it disappeared

The rope fell and landed on a strong branch, perfect to hang a swing from

So I did

You floated above the whole countryside, heels bookending the sun

The wood never rotted, the rope never frayed

The patches of green grass never faded

The rain stayed away

I’ll tell you the days tasted like honey

We lined our pockets with wildflowers and stole pebbles from the creek bed

Wild thieves with wild dreams

Cowboys and pirates and sailors

Though there is no law here, only nature, only silence and unwritten promises

I’ll come back, I’ll return what I stole

I’ll tell you we crossed the river on steady legs, balanced on a fallen aspen

And never looked down or back

Our footprints embedded in the slippery mud on the other side of the creek

Rosy skies and the cosmos at our fingertips

I’ll tell you about it even when you don’t remember

I’ll slice an apricot and pretend it’s the sun that waned to let the moon shine

The clouds the cobwebs draped in the corners

The tree limbs the cracks below the windowsill, so far below you

Here is the piece of rope that held the swing

Here is the sound of running water and the smell of grass

Reach for sunlight, caress each fragile lily and tulip

Can you picture it yet?

The sun dipping below the trees, pleased with itself

The moon in full ephemeral bloom

Red brick clay creek beds

Legs stretching tall, going far

You, a brave soldier, in the middle of it all

Me, a storyteller, at the end of it all

I’ll tell you the city was still there when we returned

Arms full of flowers and fruit

Cheeks soft and sore

I’ll tell you we ate like kings and kept court in the living room

Dust swarming but harmless because your lungs are good now

And the shower is warm, the water reliable

The days were ripe sunflower seeds

The nights were dewy leaves and apple cores

One day, I’ll tell you the story, promise

Some days I feel like a damn god.

Confident, outspoken and funny

Living life so hard

I feel like every single person is a great friend

Life is fucking great

This happiness will never end

For at least a week

I feel like I could rule the world

Every person loves me

Theys, guys and girls

I know I deserve greatness

And I should do whatever I want

I don't think about consequences

I don't consider the future harms

I'm living life to the fullest

And I give the best advice

Deciding to change my hair again

To match my beautiful eyes

Feeling kinda risky

Because a gamble could be fun

Making massive choices on a flip of a coin

The decision making done

I don't listen to your problems well

Even though I try

Because your words are not sticking

Mixed music playing loud in my mind

Dangerous social butterfly

I make friends of those I meet

But around day 8

Everything changed

And I'm drowning in defeat

I must have annoyed everyone

Gotten on their nerves

I'm going to be completely alone

And it's everything I deserve

I regret so many choices

Guilt swarms in my head

All the actions I made

All the wrong words I said

I hate the way I look

How could anybody like me

I'm boring, ugly and miserable

If I weren't here they'd be free

Tears fill my eyes often

I'm constantly worn and sad

It takes me a while to realise

I'm really not that bad

At some point my calm hits and I stop feeling so cynical

After all, it's just the chemicals.

As my world burned, and the pain shot to my head I became numb, started to wonder if I was dead! But like a trigger effect, my eyes opened and the pain was back again, all this heat just rising in my brain. Bro's before hoes that's how that saying goes but... if I can kill both with one go who in this world will know?