it gives you wings

I am strong
self-assurance
I am strengthening
my grip
I am gripping, collapsing
the weakness of who was once
I am.
A picture in the frame, nailed
to the wall--without glass
over exposed and talking
always talking, moving--your movement
alive
with the glory
and I'm sitting here
smiling--your driving
your new music
new smile
traveling hands, in the air
over fences, barbed wire
single-sided swinging doors
I am
uncovering
a simpler way to live
to experience everything--challenge,endure,exposure
really, finally just living
on the outside
the sun, the night, giving back what i've been given to
abundancy--life,love,and otherwise--
hands held trust again--gripping shoulder's in the sun
on a tightrope we'll run
and i can't wait to sleep just to see a tomorrow,
hoping i'll see you there.

check "yes"

In his arms flecked with paint he'd never held
something so carefully as he once hadn't held her heart.
Properly she sat beside him now,
beside where he'd once felt
her and she couldn't bring herself to look at him.
She could talk, she could breath, still,
and so she supposed she'd feel his eyes
all over her, still. Things hadn't changed.
It'd been a year, locked on swollen skin
and he said what she'd needed to hear.
The words that made her fall, still
she saw him for what she'd wanted back when and then
she wanted it to be too late, to be so unforgiven.
Still he'd broken, the one place she'd never given
and living here still, the two together sit--the space between expanding
once lives, now cement; and she's supposed to be the one to fight.
The ants are crawling on her skin, she lets them--his eyes
eating away her t-shirt and jeans
stewing in her nakedness, she has no choice but to conceed to his
memorizing, photographing--his photographic memory she'd meant
to ask him to stop but instead fallen asleep still kneeling, head lain carefully in his lap.
Like his arm 'round her shoulder, he'd shaken her 'wake to save
himself--casualty, moves--and "Something In The Way She Moves" plays
and she hates herself all over again for letting him
cheat and win, the boy--little boy she'd first loved.
Fed every cliche
ripping at the seams of every stuffed animal
plastic flower, puppy dog, diamond heart-shaped necklace
her baby, two time valentine
and still, she said what she needed to say--
he swears he's changed, for the third time
and she wants to,
needs to,
has to,
seems to
believe.
But believings not enough in a world worth tasting
tactile & stimulating--the left over spit up in a restaurant napkin
she'd been.
Rejection at the root of every hair he'd ever spun
around a finger he then placed on the tip of another's tongue
he'd taste anything--his prayer for feeling,
his quell for an otherwise emotionless
him, still.
She will never understand how she came to be this way
this person so apart from these, otherwise so easily appeased
she has him to thank for only that--his entiredy changed.


She left to just
breath
learn to play, alone
she wants to sing, where she's torn
and mend, to run, on the outside
to lay and see her bones exposed
her confidence returned to her
stolen in the night.
the victim, she only sees his eyes
hands, self on her when she closes her own.

"Neon" - The Knife

what i've wanted to say

Blessed be, I hadn't heard your name in awhile
Not that I'd forgotten, more or less a little too busy
I thought maybe I'd just wait another day to call
A more convenient time perhaps, when life wasn't so filled
With sex and desire
And I feel stupid coming here now, too late
Out of place and afraid – of rejection
Of not getting what I want, which is? The answer, to my nagging
self, and I've discovered self doubt and along with found me
insecurity, but with you I never knew what today might feel like
alone, still breathing, I've forgotten your number—your middle name
I can't catch my breath – the air's really thick here you know?
I don't remember any of this from before – would I recognize you if you were here today?
Would I grab your hand? Could I again…did I ever, seek humility
life less pride – what purpose have I served thus far, what strength have you granted
that I noticed?
Where has my grace filled grateful heart gone? Where would I go if the world were stripped away from me? Where is the stillness of my dwelling place, my solitude, my warmth in a room all alone…all alone?
Where is the escape, the arms—of the world, of ever single living, breathing soul—here and gone…where are you that I once knew?
And who am I becoming that I can no longer sing…rebellion for liberation? For what…for whose acceptance and approval am I living?
Doubt. Is it that? Whispering approvals, "yes" understood by the selves of so many individual...where was I then? Where were you? What twist caused this…gradual…step down, turn, release, space between—fluid filled—broken, swollen, torn aftermath
Where is my conviction then? When I'm broken. When I'm torn. When I'm filled, emptied and filled again…with what?
With whom?
With it…can you quit
what you don't even understand how it was you began…
through the bitterness can you become again, what you've lost. Is that the goal. Does it require this much…decision making. Or are we always deciding, searching, wondering, questioning, straining,
upset at ourselves for becoming everything we once would hate.
And that hatred lives in my heart makes it break even more, because that's the only way to explain it—brokenness.
Even every single word I've ever tried to create into poetry cannot explain the void I've escaped into for so long now it's become natural.
They don't even know I ever claimed You. They never heard me sing through tears on bended knee at the alter, the pew, the front steps, stage, back door, wind ridden sand shores, the streets flooding in midnight rains, folding chairs, in hallways and sanctuaries
Is this living at all…where do I go to seek redemption through truth? Where do I go to regain my trust, Yours?
Where do I shed my tears and break the skin of my palms…whose feet…whose arms…whose hand needs holding?
Lead me. Need me. See me. Redeem. Forgive. Understand, I'm confused and seeking and forever I'm loving in so many different ways.
A love even I cannot understand – a love without simplicity
Uncategorized, without limit, the soft sooth of remembrance without regret
Experience freed from expectation;
Only wishing, needing, wanting – to please, fulfill
Fill You.
Feel me again please…I'm fighting it still.

"Psalms 23" - Jason Upton