I fear

the judgement of those I don’t know

and

the opinions of those I do

I fear

the weight of eyes awaiting my own mouth to produce noise

and

the contents that my brain will send to my lips

I fear

the responsibility of bearing the love of others

and

the uncertainty of my own reciprocation

I fear

the allowance of myself to be comfortable

and

the voice that nags to say happiness is fleeting

I fear

the feelings that I let wander inside me

and

the doubt that I am able to feel as others do

I fear

my own fear

that

it will consume me, it will engulf me, it will strangle me

~

d

e

ath

strikes

my being,

a flash, and I’m

changed. thunderous

lightning scars depths

as sand’s grains. searching

for meaning, amidst dust &

ash, ’til sorrow’s unveiling:

my tears made

of glass.

~

dedicated to:

Famewriter & ChainedInShadow

ask me to list

each fear of mine

and i’d be talking

for an epoch

but most of all

it’s fear of change

haunting my head

stretching my soul

if only i could

tug on time

and cling to now

a moment longer

I gaze over my shoulder at a life left behind

My younger self sobs glum from a daily grind

A silly relationship cut short, not looking ahead

A problem at work fills me with utter dread

A rainy day soaks me, when the sun’ll be out soon 

A critical comment taken seriously from a buffoon

All this pushing a negative in a world with so much light  

So afraid of happiness, too scared to embrace the bright 

The list goes on,

And on,

And on.

We know what they are.

We know which ones belong to those we love.

We know what it does to a person.

We have seen in the eyes of animals.

We have seen it influence the growth of children.

We watch it whip an entire country into shape.

We listen as they become passed down from the generation before.

We allow the media to intensify our fears.

We allow our fears to overcome us, internally.

We, sometimes, become capable of facing them.

We can handle a particular level of pressure, especially when we are aware that the fear is common.

Fear can run a lonely person into the arms of an abusive partner.

Fear can back any animal into a corner.

Fear strips a child of their confidence to speak, especially when they need help.

Fear can deteriorate the idea of living a normal life.

There also lies the notion that a life sprinkled with fear is “normal”, since everyone is afraid of something.

Including myself.

But, the fact that we have the opportunity to strengthen our minds in an effort to spiritually find ease in multiple avenues of life, is denied by many.

This fact is denied by those who’s fear provides them with an unseeable sense of stability and self.

It is never too late, however, to chose to flip the neurological switch from fear to, what I like to call, fire.

I don’t believe all fear is bad.

In fact, it is a fear that drives me forward in my quest for financial abundance:

The fear of being unable to provide my Mom with the home of her dreams.

See, this fear is not as manipulating as others.

It’s this “fire” that drives me everyday once my eyes open, to continue the road to lasting success.

My truest fear is becoming diagnosed with an incurable disease, leaving me to live out the rest of my days as handicap, under the care and supervision of humans who would eventually come to resent my existence.

This fear could easily take over my character.

I could be the person who wears gloves to any and every occasion.

I could be the person who never leaves the house, because of the uncertainty of sickness.

I could even be the person who NEVER shakes hands with the people they meet, or refuse to aid a struggling child or animal due to risk of ill exposure.

Or, I can be who I am.

I can leave home to soak in the heat of the sun. I can hold a baby close, and pet a puppy.

I’ve been told I give some of the best hugs and handshakes, in which I take pride.

The genuinely affectionate person I am would disappear if I dared to move through life supposedly untouched.

For now, a travel sized hand sanitizer will subside the environmental triggers in my day-to-day.

It’s in this way that this fear does not control me. I control it.

I wrote this at a time I was absolutely petrified that I would lose one of my closest friends. We agreed that if we ever got "four missed calls" from each other, it was an emergency.

Corpse, Skeleton

Four missed calls. I run to the car. Alarm bells ring. The blood drains out of my body, leaving a scarlet robe rolling down the road behind me. Warning. Warning.

Four missed calls mean only one thing. I phone for an ambulance, praying -praying- that I’m not too late. I’m hypersensitive. The seatbelt is a chainsaw, slicing off my skin in great slabs that get left behind as I speed through roads. As I speed through buildings. As I speed through people.

Four missed calls- emergency. I crash through the universe, weightless but with direction, on a collision course set for --- I can’t even say it. The emptiness of the void squeezes my barely beating heart. I can’t find enough air. Where is all the oxygen? I keep my foot on the pedal. I need to get home. I need to get home. I need to get –

I’m home. The ambulance lights are flashing, flashing. The sirens are screaming but my ears are filled with silence. She’s not breathing. I’m breathing. Her heart is broken. I’m heartbroken. There she is, dangling like a broken chandelier. I was not enough. Now she is a corpse. And I am a skeleton.

All is fine, but not is mine,

as dreams still haunt me daring.

As time goes, through highs and lows,

they come quick to mind, not caring.

Not blood, nor moan, would hurt alone,

as demons stand all glaring.

No thought will wane, while I'm insane.

My armaments I'm wearing.

They taunt me so, and will not go!

Their shrieks and cries keep blaring!

Now I'm awake, I scarce can take,

the thought of their declaring.

We'll meet again. I don't know when.

And so your teeth, you will be baring.

This poem is about my actual dreams. Most, if not all, consist of monstrous nightmares with demons and creatures. I started having these dreams when I accidentally viewed a horror movie at the age of five. Since then, I have used my dreams to an advantage by turning them into deep and meaningful poems.