Crash and clash

The heavy metal

Grinding foward

A hundred years

Ringing in my ears

.

Balance

On the jet stream

Beaming into

Right now

.

The intercom crackles

“Greenpoint Avenue”

The next ones

My stop

.

Spot the native characters

Putting on a show

Performance for no-one

For the measly price of

$2.75

.

You’d smile along

.

Oh the innate drive

We all host

To become a

Local

Reach out and feel the cool air

Sunrise on my fingertips

A hundred ways to start the day

.

I am but just a wild coincidence

A messy strand of DNA, Cells,

And unwavering consciousness

.

A metamorphosis of emotions

The beauty and terror

That makes this life real

.

Hand on my shoulder

It’ll be alright

Melanie Costello

Melanie Costello

.

The conversation falls silent

Your mouth is sour

Can anyone remain sane

In a life like this

.

Overstimulation

Mind runs a marathon

While the air around you

Heavy and stale

.

Your body can’t seem to move

Except for the lump

That grows in your throat

.

Realizations never feel good

Walk around at dawn

In your childhood neighborhood

Recite the street names

.

We may be in constant motion

But its easy to feel frozen

Stuck to the wall

Back in fifth grade

Playing pretend

.

Seated under

The large fluorescent lights

Of your elementary school

Count the dead bugs inside them

Theres no study for the mindless

Worn out and rearranged

The witness still remains

Speaks out over covered ears

.

We remind ourselves

Of every tragedy

Every cursed existence

Stain on the world

.

Can’t keep my eyes dry

.

It bubbles up

The molten core

Of all that matters

Corroding your throat

.

Heart begins to leak

Love pools at your shoes

.

Walk on then

Numb to the crowd

But now closed off

To the beauty that remains

Handing thick in the air

.

Melanie Costello

You know your fires out

Spend the sunlight stuck inside

Stare longingly out the window

Wishing you could kill the doubt

.

You can’t help but be controlled

By your pained emotions

And racing thoughts

That try and haunt your soul

.

Hunched over, body aches

Working deep into the night

Nothing but a vessel

An organic machine, cannot wake

.

Wasted days, loosing time

Your lovely home

Now a lonely prison

Starved soul, muddled mind

.

You know your fires gone

A bird lands on the ledge

Their gaze meets your eye

Convinces you to fight on

.

Run free

.

Melanie Costello

Hope is an overused term

But nothing else

Quite describes

The feeling I get

Standing in this little home

Ive made my own

Ive stopped working

In the banal regularity

Focusing on my whole self

In the now, right here

Comfort in the chaos

Its a wondrous world

When you block the worries of late

Quit the routine, turn off the lights

Watch the summer storms instead,

The lightning cracks and thunder claps

It crescendos, a grand finale

The sun peaks through

Calmness restored

The mourning doves and

House sparrows dance around

Telephone poles and power lines

The budding pagoda trees

Drop off their children in the yard

Hope is an overused term

But nothing else

Quite describes

This

Melanie Costello

@whitewolfe32

There’s a magical little world

Hidden in the pockets of silence

The quiet moments when you first open your eyes

Beginning breathes greeting you with warmth

Soft fabrics caress you into today

Stand up

Feel the fibers of the carpet touch your toes

Hugs the sole, feeds the soul

Look out the window

Watch the shadows dance and wave hello

The glow of the sun as she washes over you

Make your way to the kitchen

There’s a great view of the blocks’ yards

Vivacious greenery for you to see

An avian spectacular- one day only!

Listen to the birds discuss their lunch plans,

Your refrigerator hums along

A glass of water on the counter

All within your reach

Waves of heavenly sea

Crashes against your lips

Drink it down

Breathe in the simple air

That makes this place your home

You’ve built a beautiful kingdom,

A one bedroom in Brooklyn

You’ve done so well

The Earth bellows a beautiful tune

An everlasting symphony

Warm feelings and melodic silence

Muted moments to open you up

For the day ahead

My name is Melanie Costello. The work is titled “Sunday Symphony”. I am working on a small poetry collection that’ll focus on my growth into adulthood and figuring out who I am. I am 24 and my target audience will primarily be those in a similar age range of myself 18-28, though youre never too old to grow and change. Hopefully this work will help people feel ready to change.