Broken Pedestals

Don’t lose sight of the light.
I close both my eyes, but
Leave the third one open-wide.
Absorbing and Transforming,
Life is a canvas already been painted on; which color will you use to highlight the accents?
How many ways can I contrast the madness?
We are often too busy adding structure to the broken pedestals that once seated those you placed highly.
Deceived if depth can’t be seen without views of the horizon.
Still can’t hear me yelling – only seeing me naked.
This one really speaks to me…
Eye can’t teach them to listen.
Splatter paint like emotion wherever I go.
The world is my canvas. I create in the shadows.
Wash that mask, under that mask, beneath the skin.
Peel the flesh back like old pages.
This book is blank just like the canvas.
Invisible ink disguised as experience.
Squeeze the color out my veins, and witness the light ooze through pores.
Decorating the pews they are glued to.
Stained with the truth not illustrated on the glass.
Looking out the window is living in the past.
Breaking that window is living.
I’m breaking my silence how trees uproot sidewalks.
I belong in the street.
Driving myself crazy, playing hide-n-go-seek with self-identity.
Don’t be lazy.
Chasing my tears to the waterfall of my dreams.
Flowing…
Now I’m glowing..
I stay woke.

-Leighrick

Where Do Lost Angels Go?

Flowing water open portals.
whether closed or open, they become free.

Free of feeling, thinking, oblivious to knowledge.
Why am I crying?

Drops of glee, grief, enmity, even when drowsy.

Bottled water preserving them over years.
The pit fall, the pitiful — cork high and bottle deep.

There is so much in the rush, but slow to accumulate.

I am not weak, I am strong !

There has been weeks in years, I’ve held on
When I listen to this song, when I see that face, when I smell the fear, when I taste the salt —I stand tall.

Bursting out into tears like a fire-hydrant.
I’m my own river, cliche, denial.

For crying out loud, don’t be so quiet!!
Say something, at least the most you can say is ‘nothing’..

What’s wrong?
Nothing.

Flowing water opens portals.
whether closed or open, you become free.

-Leighrick