This is not the greatest thought process in the world, this is just a tribute.

Tonight I feel alive.

For the first time in such a very long time

I walk through this City’s streets with my head held high

Like I can see it again as I did for the first time

Thinking maybe this time I can actually thrive

With no fear as I walk past two white guys fighting

and for a second they stop and I can feel their eyes like knives, prying

Even though I walk past doorways where in the past I’ve sat crying

Somehow it all still feels vibrant

 

I no longer wear your hand-made rose-tinted glasses

I’m finally free to settle back in amongst the masses

Instead of being stuck home alone,

Lonely

While you’re sat next to me staring at your phone

And later I’d dutifully lie on my back and moan

Though for those final months there was always something a little ‘off’ about the tone.

 

Tonight I feel alive

For the first time in a very long time

My mind on fire as I race to get home

Because fuck me the one time I’ve actually left without my phone

 

And I have no pen to write down the lines

That are spilling forth from my tortured yet newly-inspired mind

As hard to retain as sand

And yet here I stand

for the first time in a very long time, rhyming

Fingers dancing across the keyboard, typing

Trying to remember how it went the first time, unbridled

How do you capture inspiration when for the longest time it’s been silenced?

 

Messy and raw, it’s never going to sound as good on paper as it did when it was just a thought.

 

This is not the greatest thought process in the world, this is just a tribute.

 

Birthdays. 

I have the itchiest feet

For brand new streets

New faces

Strange places.
New things I long to try

But how, when I’m so tied

To a life that doesn’t feel like mine

In a place on borrowed time.

I should’ve left

When I knew it was best

Packed up like the rest

So scared of life’s tests

While others were right
I am left, bereft.

And yet.

A seed. A well protected yearning

That grows stronger

With each year

Each number.

Another chance to make a change.

Another chance to age

With pride in choices that are mine.

I’ll just give it more time

Marinate in this hopeful skin crawling yearning

Until there’s nothing left to do but move

Fumigate my entire being

And emerge anew.

Risen. Cleansed. Raw and ready.

To meet myself face to face
And she’ll say

“Finally.”