Empty Bottles Full of Stories Page 2

  you like the idea

  of feeling

  too much,

  of experiencing

  too much

  and letting the things

  inside you

  float away.

  I think

  you want people

  to notice you

  but want others

  to think that

  isolation pumps through

  your veins.

  I think

  you care

  too much

  but you pretend

  as if

  nothing bothers you.

  I think

  you want people

  to miss you

  but only

  the right ones.

  I think

  you like breaking

  apart

  but only because

  you know by morning

  you’ll be

  yourself again.

  I think

  you like being chased

  because you want

  to be saved

  and loved

  with the same intensity

  an earthquake

  would bring.

  I think

  you want the world

  to remember you

  but you don’t have

  the slightest clue

  on becoming memorable.

  I think

  you want delicate hands

  to surf over

  your skin

  but you think

  you’re too hard

  for soft hands.

  I think

  of all these things

  and it couldn’t be

  more true,

  that like me,

  you just need someone

  to catch you

  and tell you

  how much they know you—

  to reveal

  little things about you,

  that you

  yourself ignore.

  I think

  the star in you

  wants to give light

  to other people

  and I think

  I need it

  to help me

  find my way.

  And, like you,

  I think

  and feel these things

  deeply . . .

  and I know we need

  each other . . .

  if ever,

  we think

  we want

  a proper shot

  at love.

  STORIES

  I know

  there are

  two sides

  to the world—

  two stories.

  One good

  and one bad,

  and

  you shouldn’t ignore

  the bad.

  You should know it

  but don’t fall into it.

  The world is beautiful,

  life is beautiful,

  and hatred shouldn’t be

  carried.

  So please go on

  gently

  and always remember

  to let all things

  that weigh you down

  go.

  TOO MUCH OF ANYTHING IS BAD

  Too much war.

  Too much slavery.

  Too much famine.

  Too much death.

  Too much suffering.

  Too much pain.

  Too much nothingness.

  All around,

  filling the room.

  Too much laughter.

  Too much peace.

  Too much comfort.

  Too much togetherness.

  Too much love.

  Too much life.

  Too much passion.

  People, moments, and life

  will show you

  how too much

  of anything can be dangerous.

  They will make you

  either

  feel more or less.

  The beautiful gift

  and curse of being human,

  to give and to take away.

  To build or destroy.

  The same way people,

  both men and women,

  dead or alive,

  have gone through

  and/or will go through

  too much of too much.

  Too much emptiness.

  Too much confusion.

  Too much to hold.

  Too much to let go.

  You won’t be

  the same person

  after you’ve seen

  what you’re meant

  to see . . .

  and how could you?

  The world is both

  light and dark

  and only those

  with their eyes open

  see

  and find their way.

  It is both

  a curse and a blessing

  to feel things

  so deeply

  and too much of anything

  will always be

  too much

  for you to bear.

  Always.

  SORROW RISES

  The heart

  is sometimes

  a liar,

  for at times,

  it promises happiness

  but too often,

  it leaves you

  alone

  with nothing more

  than sorrow.

  What a terrible monster

  to feed.

  It wants and wants and wants

  and almost always,

  does it leave you

  empty-handed

  with nothing left

  to hold.

  A GIRL I ONCE KNEW

  She had tragic eyes—

  sad eyes

  as if she had seen

  too much

  or had too many stars

  die

  within the edge

  of her pupils.

  Large, faraway eyes,

  as if

  all the things

  she had lived through

  meant nothing

  without the people

  she loved.

  Without a word

  she speaks

  and tells me

  all the things

  I need to hear,

  the things

  I need

  to ease the pain

  a little.

  With a few blinks

  she calms my storms,

  the mad wolves

  rioting inside of my brain,

  the ones who feed off

  my heart,

  courage,

  and inspiration.

  Her eyes wander,

  they take the whole

  goddamn feeling,

  the whole

  goddamn moment . . .

  as if

  she drank the ocean

  within my beating chest,

  and now

  I’m lost at sea.

  My life is nothing,

  this is what I tell

  my comrades.

  That without her

  I’m just another fool

  searching for the pieces

  that may

  or may not

 
complete me.

  Those eyes,

  beautiful and lost.

  Those eyes,

  piercing and soft.

  Those eyes,

  sane and mad.

  Like the gentle doubt

  I carry

  throughout my life.

  I’m a fool,

  I say,

  and like the fool

  that I am,

  I follow

  and I walk

  toward her darkness—

  where all the dying stars

  end up.

  Where the light

  can’t escape

  and where all

  the lost people go

  to be found.

  Those eyes,

  beautiful and lost.

  Those eyes,

  piercing and soft.

  Those eyes,

  sane and mad.

  And with one look

  I am lost . . .

  forever.

  LETTER TO MY DAUGHTER

  Listen to the way

  life slowly walks

  out of her body.

  If there is any kind

  of music

  to be appreciated,

  then it is there,

  between the beats

  of her heart

  and the quiet exhale

  of her breath.

  So please,

  love her

  and love her well.

  She is not meant

  to live forever

  but the idea

  is to make her feel

  as if

  she is the center

  of the universe . . .

  every single day.

  Amen.

  ALWAYS IN ME

  Always in me,

  there is a moon

  and some nights

  it lights my sky,

  while other nights

  it emphasizes

  my brokenness.

  Always in me,

  there is a star

  and some nights

  it caves within itself,

  while other nights

  it expands

  to devour other worlds.

  Always in me,

  there is an ocean

  and sometimes

  it’s calm,

  while other nights

  it drowns the people

  I love.

  Always in me,

  there is a garden

  of flowers

  and some nights

  it blooms,

  while other nights

  it grants me strength

  over my weaknesses.

  Always in me,

  there is a thunderstorm

  and some nights

  it understands me,

  while other nights

  it takes my breath away.

  Always in me,

  there is a great sadness

  and some nights

  it hurts,

  while other nights

  it is silenced

  by laughter.

  Always in me,

  there are sides of you

  and some nights

  you don’t have me,

  while other nights

  I can’t escape

  what you’ve done.

  Always in me,

  there are maps

  and some nights

  I wander away,

  while other nights

  they lead me straight

  to you.

  Always in me,

  stay with me,

  for some nights

  are better than others

  and other nights

  stay the same as before.

  Always in me,

  stay with me,

  for some nights

  people see you

  for who you are,

  while other nights

  they see themselves

  in the things

  they want to see.

  Always in me,

  stay with me,

  and never leave my side,

  for some nights

  I am yours,

  while other nights

  you are mine.

  Stay with me.

  Always in me.

  Always with me.

  Always

  by my side.

  TOO MUCH DARKNESS

  Sometimes,

  I feel

  like I have too much

  to offer.

  Too much light

  and too much darkness.

  Too much repetitiveness

  and too much contradiction.

  Too much love

  and too little

  time to explore it.

  Too much heart

  and too much inspiration

  to change that look

  in your eyes.

  Too much flame

  and too much passion

  to control.

  I feel the people.

  I feel the pain.

  I feel the breath

  of the ocean in me.

  And because of it

  I carry too much

  of too much

  for my own good.

  I am still,

  and the weight of it all

  is beautiful.

  And sometimes,

  among all things,

  I feel like

  a dying star.

  Like I am

  collapsing within myself,

  devouring every planet,

  every person,

  and every moment

  I . . .

  have ever known.

  TWO SIDES

  There are two sides

  of me . . .

  for example,

  one side of me knows

  what to do,

  while the other side

  of me doesn’t.

  So there are days

  when I do

  want to stay

  but then

  there are days

  when I want to go

  as far as possible.

  And I don’t know

  which side of me

  works best with you,

  in fact,

  I don’t know at all

  but

  I do know one thing.

  Both sides of me think of you

  all the time

  and they miss you

  whenever

  you’re not around.

  OBEY OBEY OBEY

  Obey what you feel

  and know

  that your heart will

  always lead you

  in the right direction.

  Put your trust

  in the atoms

  inside of you.

  Believe in them,

  know them . . .

  they are connected

  for a reason

  after all.

  FAME IS DEAD

  Fame.

  What is fame?

  The knowing?

  The recognition?

  Is fame power?

  True power?

  Why do people fight for it?

  Why do people

  crave being accepted,

  appreciated,

  and loved by many?

>   I never understood this

  and to be honest,

  I’m not sure

  how anyone could even

  want this type of commitment.

  Fame.

  Please no thank you.

  I like myself.

  I like where I am.

  I like the fact

  that I am unknown

  although,

  my work has been shared

  by millions.

  Choice.

  It is my choice.

  However I want to proceed

  or not

  is ultimately my decision.

  It’s up to me,

  up to you.

  I want to stay in the shadows.

  I want to stay

  where all things that go

  ignored remain

  where they do go die . . .

  but be in the light

  just enough

  to be remembered.

  Not in present

  but in the past.

  I want people to say,

  “Hey I remember him.

  His books were great;

  they inspired me.”

  That’s all I really want.

  I want the eight-year-old kid

  to pick up my book

  and start writing,

  because of me.

  To me,

  that is more important

  than fame.

  It is legendary

  to inspire someone

  to be more.

  To believe in themselves . . .

  the same way I have

  in myself.

  I want to be a champion

  of the underdog.

  Of the nine-to-fivers.

  The ones who are trying

  to break through

  and make something out

  of themselves.

  I want to be a champion

  to the ones

  who believe people

  can change

  once they believe to accept

  how easy it is to do so.

  I want to represent

  the ones

  who are near the finish line

  but for some reason

  they finish second

  instead of first.

  They are still winners

  for not giving up.

  So fame,

  is it needed to succeed?

  Is being popular the answer?

  No, it’s not.

  It’s a distraction.

  It’s an illusion

  and it pulls you away

  from what really matters.

  So to say

  that I want to be famous

  is completely irrelevant.

  For one,

  I don’t like being filmed.

  I don’t like being photographed.

  I tried it

  and didn’t like it.

  So why should I do

  something I don’t want to?

  That’s not love.

  That’s not self-righteous.

  To sell yourself

  to sell more books?

  I still remind myself

  to find myself,

  although millions of people

  follow what it is

  I stand for.

  The truth is,

  I still don’t know who I am