four in the morning, the trees are breathing and i'm in sync.
took me forever to start liking the side of my face but i'm doing it.
the glow and the light that i see in my peripheral is a sign, it all feels like signs and this path i'm paving is mine.
the sun hasn't come up but i smell the morning air, it's a mix of grass and nostalgia and safety.
it's my mom waking me and my sisters up to go to my grandmas,
it's church camp,
it's garage sales and littlest pet shop and monster high and bratz.
took me forever to start just Being and Living but i'm doing it.
i've always liked the silence before we begin again, before we're born again.

It's not the barnacles that do all the damage
Figure this out too late
It's not the destination that makes the difference
It's the freight

Everything becomes a blur from six feet away
Get used to this
Every card ever turned over remains in play
Get used to this

Not every wave is a tidal wave
Not every wave is a tidal wave

It's not the mutiny written down in the diary
It's the manifest
Forgotten cargo in obsolete measurements
Anybody's guess

Even the proud, even the very proud
Probably die on their knees
Twin masts out on the open seas
Mistaken for trees

Not every wave is a tidal wave
Not every wave is a tidal wave

We sail we sleep we scry by land
We dig a pit beneath the sand
A place to keep the sun at bay
At dark we rise and find our way

With our faithful companion by our side
Put it all on the table and let it ride
Close to the drop-off on our long slide

The land we left becomes a dream
The ghosts we knew, they rise like steam
They leave some trails against the sky
All but invisible to the eye

With our faithful companion by our side
Put it all on the table and let it ride
Close to the drop-off on our long slide

Call off the search party,
Let mourners wail by the shore

Point to the spot where our ship disappeared
We're not coming home any more

Should you succeed and breach the coast
You tell your friends you've seen a ghost
You tell them all there's nothing here worth dying for
You leave it there

With our faithful companion by our side
Put it all on the table and let it ride
Close to the drop-off on our long slide

I yearn for the girl I used to be.

The girl who used to care about her studies.
The girl who used to write poetry.
The girl who used to sing confidently.
The girl who used to paint vividly.
The girl who used to love freely.
The girl who used to care deeply.

I do not care about my studies (as much).
I do not write poetry (as much).
I do not sing confidently (as much).
I do not paint vividly (as much).
I do not love freely (as much).
I do not care deeply (as much).

The intensity has passed on,
to younger generations,
to newer beings,
to fresh souls,
with more to live for,
with more to care for,
and with more to prepare for,
than I.

For I am old,
and I will continue to do the things I love,
but not with the passion,
but not with the love,
but not with the care,
but not with the confidence,
but not with the freedom,
that I once had.

f.m.s.

I got wet.

Then I got more wet.

Then I lost my keys.

And my shoes were filled with rain,

chattering teeth, soaked to my thighs

through to my skin

shrivelled up feet, trench foot set in

but then I think about real trench foot
and silently apologise to the poor sods
who died with wet feet

I cried when I peeled off my clothes

I felt sorry for myself

But the little un had made me a hot drink

So I thought myself lucky

I am not native to wet and cold

The sun is needed for us growin' old

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no more

So Close.

You sewed your mouth.
When it rained in your head.
For what it's lived.
& what it's not.
You sickened yourself to stay home
for me.
Come see me.
& lay in this bed.
Your algorithmic speech.
Flaunted.
Sitting sweater.
Tears seducing the *****.
Its dance.
Its cry.
You to be the muse.
You to make the sigh.
Of love & relief.
& with visions so delicate.
& prompted.
You play the strings then slumber.
Kept warm under.
Passing the sound.
Around.
& around it went.
& still goes.




Garrett Johnson.