remembering the loss of you

I miss you

It wasnt until months after you were gone that I allowed myself to cry

The day you left was hard for so many people

I felt like I had to be strong for my family, I had to console them and hold them while they cried

But really, I just couldnt comprehend it

You were larger than life, someone everyone knew and liked and trusted

But to me you were just my grandpa, who sang silly songs with me in cars about coffee and tea, and stinky feet hanging out windows

You were the one who pretended to eat my toy plastic food, and then my ear

You were the one who treated me beyond my years, entrusting me with tales and retells of stories i wished i remembered

I still cannot believe ypure gone

Everytime I go see grandma i expect you to be sitting in your rocking chair or reading the paper at the table

It was months before I cried about you

I wish i could talk to you
I want to know if you are proud of me

I like to think you are

me explaining things to myself: stuck in a spiral of dreams

How can i even begin to attempt to explain,
the thoughts that spin around around in my brain
sometimes i feel like i might be insane-

at least, compared to other people
their words so concise, yet elegant, just lethal-
in their ease to follow, they take you where they mean to lead you.

im not sure why i can't easily express
the ideas that spin round and round with no rest
my mind just keeps whirling, wHiRLiNg!!
and you don't want to get lost down
this rabbit hole with me, because soon you'll see that
maybe.
theres nothing interesting.
because the things that tend to occupy my time
are boring or senseless or impossible for me to define.

and when i don't think, i just sleep
and when i sleep, i don't remember my dreams
and sleeping is boring without dreaming
and without dreams, life has no meaning

so ill dream when im awake.
and tumble through spirals of tangents and ideas that are only half-baked.
before i move on to next one
and as a sentence is slipping off of my tongue
another idea is shooting out like a gun and wait.

maybe this is why my brain doesn't make sense.

huh.

cold late nights and hot hazy afternoons

how do you do that?

how do you be real?

do you just...not do anything?

no mind-blowing explanation,
just an action that requires no thinking?

do you just live and be alive,
and that alone lets you have a place,
lets you exist and have an existence in a world,

in this world

in this world (that might not be real either)

i sit in silence and fear,
constantly questioning how to be real

because if there is anything i dont feel

i dont feel real

when you can't sleep and feel like fighting the world

aint got no money got no time aint got no peace of mind
got no money got no time got no goddamn peace of mind

but ill fight
and ill try
to find just what
i meant to be alive for
and ill keeping trying to find my way

and i can never stay the same
because i keep falling
but i get up
because all these things
that push me down
cant stop me from standing up

tic toc tic toc

im a consumer
a consumer of ideas
i want to see what someone else thinks
i want to see the world through their eyes
how they think the world tick tocks tic tok

i want every word every feeling every sigh every breath in between theyre all apart of your story
the way you tell it
the way it is meant to be told
it doesnt matter what its about its a part of you and you gave it life
gave it a chance to live in this world of tics and tocs

i know what i know i want to know what you know i want to know how you think this world tic toc tic tocs
i want to know what the world has shown you because its something that ill never be able to witness quite the same way

i want to grow i want to learn i want to see the world through everyone elses eyes and take that information  and change how i see it, how i think the world tic tocs tic tocs

but im running out of time tic toc
im running out of time all the time
theres no rest tic toc
theres no time to explore the world tic toc
because in order to live you have to tic toc
and most people tic toc and ignore the clock going tic toc tic toc bc theyre working their gears and over the whirrs and clicks the sound of clocks running out is
too quiet to notice

Graphic Novel

sometimes you make my imagination overflow

we dance under the stars sometimes
you twirl me, and i twirl you back
its the ebb and flow
the give and take
that makes us what we are

and if someone asked me
if this is all worth it
id have to reply with

maybe you havent felt this
do you know when you were little
and you put up glow in the dark stars on your ceiling
and then that night, you climbed into bed and turned off the light
and a night sky blossomed above your head

that euphoria, is what this love is like