some-tings-they-hurt

[some-tings-they-hurt]

Wild life

I can feel myself start to slip

Off the edge and into the crowd

As I look up, my own eyes grip

Drawn from the path like a plane in a cloud

The trust within is fragile

To only just have to come back to myself

A promise to protect, to remain agile

To not become an empty well

Awareness is the key to foundation

Recenter. Ground yourself.

To return to the path without citation

I live in abundance. Positivity, wealth.

Sacred I have become in my essence

The air is quiet and pregnant with potential

The light in my eyes booms with florescence

I return with presence. My breath existential

I write and write but words don’t satisfy

An animal instinct

The need to run on all fours. The need to fly

To be raw, primal, distinct

Yet here I sit with thoughts of mist

A true warrior, forged of steel and flame

A human life I can’t resist

I will move forward, and leave behind shame

[some-tings-they-hurt]

Rage

They left us here.

you did too,

after they vanished.

you walked the high road

while i burned in the pit you forgot.

and now you return,

face soft with “healing,”

saying you’re here to save me.

but i’m not a boy anymore.

i’m just

teeth.

calcium sharpened by time.

you could call me a skeleton,

but even bones break less often than trust.

i don’t feel human.

if you peeled back this scar-tissue armor,

i’m not sure you’d find anything

but pressure.

still—

there are moments.

moments where i catch

the smell of old markers,

the sound of sneakers on tile,

sunlight slicing through classroom blinds—

and for a second,

i remember being

real.

like i had skin.

like i had time.

but let me tell you something:

i am your soul’s last line of defense.

i am fucking brilliant at it.

and still,

sometimes i watch you from the fire

and wonder:

what would it feel like

to be soft like you?

you ask me what i’m trying to say.

but rage is my mother tongue,

and yours is silence.

we are lost in translation.

we have been for years.

i’m tired.

it feels like the weight of giants

has been pressing down on my neck

since i learned how to swallow pain.

and,

i miss being a friend

before it came with panic.

before connection became…

calculated.

before joy needed a contract.

i miss

simple.

and nothing

is simple anymore.

[some-tings-they-hurt]

Love

A soul in true vibration

Rage is grief after all, for me

I opened the gates

To knives in my gut

To love weaponized

Blinding flashes of passion then starvation

I built a heavier wall, all the while roaring

Electrified ground and barbed wire to cut

Let them have their lies

I see now that I am not evil, and never was

The ache stopped bleeding a long time ago

And now only burns

But I can see it and hold it in my hand

And that is power.

[some-tings-they-hurt]

Mad Men, Too

Waiting for the light, I watch

theirs stay green until they arrive—

and I think of when that happens to me.

I think of things “just the way they are”

Just the way they are not meant to be

etched into stone by hands unseen,

so deep in the marrow of society

we mistake them for truth.

Is this our world?

Or do we trudge through its muck,

pretending not to notice,

Because change is a burden only gods can will

We whisper pleas to those born into power,

to men who twist words into nooses,

a breed of mad men cloaked in certainty.

And so, we build our own small kingdoms—

a house, a wife, a child

to impose new laws upon,

to wield power where we can.

For we are mad men too.

We are powerful too.

Or do we only pretend?

Afraid to see our place for what it is,

because rising high enough to contest them

feels like an impossible climb.

They were gifted time.

They were gifted wealth.

They were gifted birthrights

wrapped in tax write-offs.

How defeating, right?

But humans have no limits—

I have teeth and intelligence

The will to carve a story that outlasts theirs,

to build a throne from dust,

to forge a legacy they cannot steal.

What about you?

[some-tings-they-hurt]

orphan

Distance is measured in time for me

And since time does not exist

Do my travels?

I remember when I used to walk

For miles and miles and miles

Sometimes I think back to

When I would focus on something far away

So far I could barely see it

I would close my eyes and count

The seconds it took to get close

Not the steps, guided by my muscles

Those muscles that, in that moment

Did not belong to me or anyone else.

[some-tings-they-hurt]

Butterfly

I don’t recognize myself anymore

The person I once was

I’m taking the sign down that says evermore

Tweezing the silk from my retinas

Take me far away from here I scream

Whispering, calm down, Ryan

It takes time and patience to grow wings

I envision myself no longer falling but flyin’

The past glares at me, dirty rag in hand

Saying I knew you would kill me

Suffering is no longer my demand

I am no longer guilty

I still feel the tug of war

The disconnection and sadness of evolution

Stay the course

Every snarl held back is contribution

I told them I had been to hell and back

But I hadn’t made the full trip

Demons I no longer attract

Being alone I see clearly, I never falter, never slip

They deserve nothing

So it is nothing I will give

No longer is anyone cutting, running

Without me they will live

If I hadn’t jumped into the pit of my mind

I could’ve spent my whole life in a cage

A weeping corpse left behind

Dying slowly of rage

Just think about that when you give too much

When the empathy is too high

Hatred, no longer a crutch

It’s time I said goodbye

[some-tings-they-hurt]

when do we go home…i just want to go home…



I look in the mirror at the unfamiliar face and try to smile

How will anyone understand me if I am so deeply lost within myself

The ghosts have all passed on but I’ll stay here awhile

One by one I put the remnants on the shelf

I don’t remember the air so think and heavy

When did my bones start to crack

Never have I been so ready

Once I let these monsters out they began to attack 

To heal oneself within this society

Be the light, change the patterns, evolve

While everyone screams “Don’t fucking try me”

Knowing what I am capable of, it’s hard to feel resolve.



But I do

Today marks the 156th page of growth

I feel the effects of consistency and doubt

I hear “You can’t change, I’m too powerful” but I took an oath

I feel it, day by day, page by page, I crawl out



If I had one wish it is to ease this journey

To not die in the process of slaying a monster

One moment of peace with nothing to stir me

A place with color and love for me to wander



[some-tings-they-hurt]

A violin with a broken string

Like oak written in ballpoint pen

The black knot sawn and glazed

I step in and out, now and then

Never at the right time or in the right place

Discovering myself thus far

I wish I could help the past

I think this feeling will be as long as we are

Dear friend -

It’s clear now what I am about

Even my name wasn’t real

To build a human from the inside out

A broken nothing never meant to heal

The wood from a tree with roots in hell

Repulsive is the unknown

Slaughter and make it a shell

A rare instrument will be strewn

Interconnected as we all are that black knot

Ever changed it feels where it has been

Notes of beautiful music instead of rot

Something to begin

[some-tings-they-hurt]

ILLKILLEVERYTHING

To heal something deep blood must be shed

I never thought healing to be so messy

When I confront my demons

I cannot put into words the strength

The maze they have created in hell

Opening old infected wounds feels

Worse than death

To let go is to feel it one last time

I resent that no one will ever understand

They don’t have the capacity

I don’t want them to know my pain

I just wish I didn’t

[some-tings-they-hurt]

Inaction

Last week I saw a bug caught between the window and screen.

I could’ve let it out if I took the time, but I had the thought

“it’ll just show up in your room”

as these things usually go when you do what you think is noble.

I decided to leave it looking for a big enough hole to get out of, rooting for it under my breath.

Today I noticed it hanging there.

Looking like it got its leg caught in a square of the screen out of panic.

We capitalize on panic.

Have you ever seen a glue trap in action?

At the end of the day it’s just a bug.

But now it has a little poem about the end of its life.

[some-tings-they-hurt]

stream of consciousness

A shared spark of a neural pathway is a connection that can easily be severed

Humans should be more advanced as we know how to manipulate particles.

We still use brooms.

Let it out through the breath

And begin again.

Do you ever feel like you have no memories

Do you ever feel like a ghost

16 hours - 8 hours - I don’t dream anymore

At least I don’t remember them

People fall in love with creations

Without any idea who created them

I suppose an idea is of the universe

Not yours or mine perhaps that’s why

Bill Wilkins was 72 when he died

In a chair In the corner

I don’t know what I believe in if anything

A clean canvas is the inside of my head

At the same time thousands fill the mask

I think I’ll wake up a different person

In a different place with a different soul

And I won’t remember this dream either

[some-tings-they-hurt]

Sometimes

I have tried to calm

Breathe. Write. Notice thoughts. Shift.

And it’s happened again

The blunt end of an ax connects to glass

The dead silence after - - - - - - - -

Have I shed my insides and kept my skin

Weeks this time. Call it a setback.

Shift focus. Begin again.

This is the hardest thing I have ever done

To be gentle is to hold back a living storm

Sometimes I slip when I’m alone

Sometimes I remember who I was

I see you sometimes

[some-tings-they-hurt]

Transformation

No one talks about the experience of shifting frequencies. It’s always portrayed as green to blue, cocoon to butterfly, mortal to immortal. Wisdom and experience come from such terrible things. Beauty is a product of pain. When someone has to turn the dial to find the next radio station, the static, screeching, the unknown waves that we just brush off are the in between, the undergrowth that we cannot see or hear. Then we learn to let go. And that is the final shift, isn’t it

[some-tings-they-hurt]

Death surrounds me

Through this all I always thought the sacrifices

The pain was all being stored

Like saving pennies for a crisis

I thought, there was more…

I have clawed through miles of soaked barbed wire

Only to find myself at the bottom of the ocean

Human as ever, heart still on fire

One day I will wash up on land, a corpse, frozen

I will die as myself

I am broken

And I cannot be fixed

[some-tings-they-hurt]

Realizing I am a Human

The world is so delicate

To interact is to destroy

My heart stays celibate

I am no longer a boy

Every problem is a challenge or a lesson

I wield manifestation and creation

No one is pure in their intention

Now that I am here expect some deviation

Such power flows through me every second

I feel it inside my blood and muscles

I smile at my beautiful and intense reflection

My eyes like fiery puzzles

The dawn of a new day is no longer a chore

Nothing can stop me now or ever again

I know, in this moment, what I am here for

Please stick around for the show, until the very end.



[some-tings-they-hurt]

My death

There’s an old practice in which you envision you’re going to die today, and ask yourself things like “what would I be doing? What would I be thinking about instead of the trivial things on my mind? What unsaid things would I finally have the courage to tell? What kind of man will they say I was? Will there even be a funeral? Could I fight death, being to being?”

I am not ready to die yet, and the anxiety of manifesting steady growth while recognizing that this all will come in time makes me wonder. If a bomb dropped on my town today, which is possible, what was all of this for? The countdown to my future that never really existed. I know that I am meant for more, but so were so many others that have been stolen by death. To not be taken by dread, but understand that all worldly possessions, responsibilities, and relationships are transient, therefore, more meaningful. That is what I strive for.

[some-tings-they-hurt]

Fear in My Mind

“The dark has always gripped me with excitement and intrigue. The thought of a fight with an enemy no matter how worthy an adversary makes my mouth water with rage and anticipation. Sometimes I wish we lived like savages so I could show them what I’m really made of.”

-me

I fear the gentle and kind, because they know a secret that’s written all over the walls in invisible ink.

I fear the crushing loneliness of this existence. To love is to accept loss. To live is to risk losing it all. How many times can a human lose it all before they become resentful?

I fear the unstoppability of my mind. The thoughts come faster than I can filter them. Anxiety grips me by the temples and pulls me into work every day.

I fear being ungrateful because of my focus on darkness. I have been conditioned to seek the ugly like a dog hunting for an intruder while it forgets it’s sitting by a fire next to its family with all the toys it could want and a full bowl of its favorite food next to it.

I fear pursuing what I am passionate about. I don’t want to be judged. “I fear regret more.” I say, digging my heels in the sand.

I fear dying unhappy. Knowing I wasn’t who I should’ve been.