420.

There are gems so deep that I'd have to strain every fiber of my being to harness and savor the sight but I stay. I reach within my past situations to gather strength to deal, to cope, to understand if this situation could flourish and become our work of art. & if I could only, if I could only look past myself the self destructing adolescent to lean on your experience and let you be a crutch within my uncertainty. The battle has become so hard and the scars have began to crust over and create monuments of frustration breathing for air to heal. My limbs are sore and the sweat beading down my face is burning my eyes. Even my own eyes are becoming an enemy because of its blurriness. I want to let down my shield and disrobe of my armor but its hard to trust. Hard to bare my weakness and become apart of circumstance and not just scenery. My intentions are pure but my hands are the work of the enemy. My flesh can't transpire the deepest affections that plague my lonely heart; however, the cold stones that surround me keep warm because I still live within the hope that keeps my heart beating.

The dj died last night and I'm forced to dance without rythme or a friendly stacatto to lean on but I try. Try to perform and extend my limbs to enjoy the moment. & if my beat never comes I'll still know I gave the floor my heart.