Papers scattered across an otherwise bare countertop, save a single cup of coffee. The late nights have become a regular occurrence; sleep becoming distant, like the lover you still long for though they have long since moved away. These cherished nights, exhausting as they are, ignite a special spark inside the minds of the overlooked. Minds turning like clockwork, with everlasting batteries, as to never slow. Those few who dwell, experimenting, creating dreams, while the remainder of the world slips into its slumber simply watching theirs; those who refuse to see life as it has been painted in front of them; those who have, entirely unknowingly, been blessed as mind shapers.

The star dwellers. The world changers. 

Thoughts aimlessly pouring

Opening every pore

Seamlessly soaring 

Creating gaping sores

When words don't have a place

And you can say no more

When the breathing on your neck

Knocks you to the floor

Emotions all devoured 

Washed away by the shore

Locked with a thousand keys

But they can still kick in a door

And now your mind is flooded

And you can't tell what for

Everything that you wanted 

But still unbeknownst if it's pure

So kiss the mouth of Jack

Knowing that's an awful cure

The last ounce down your throat

Then kill Jim too, to be sure

Small talk with a toilet seat

Face down on a bathroom floor

Look at where you put yourself

Reckless fast break failed to score

Drunk Texting

The way the wine

Whispers "you're mine"

The way the gin

Is such a sweet sin

The way the pabst

Makes me laugh

The way the whiskey

Seductively kissed me

The way the rum

Said I was "the one"

The way the vodka

Was a sexy broad, the

way the scotch

Had lessons it taught

The way the beer 

Was fantastically weird...

The drinks can't ever compare

To the feeling when I know you're there. 

Masks

Will we ever find

A moment in time

Which feels so divine

That we will rewind

Forever in mind?

Intuition's blind

Eternally by

These deceptive lines.

Hearts intertwined

Until the spark dies.

And out go the lights

None the more wise

As tears from the skies

Silence powerful cries

Behind murderous eyes.

As beautiful as the reflecting sparkle of a newborn in a mother's eyes,
As astounding as the ashes giving new birth after the phoenix dies,
As rare as someone in this lost generation living free of lies,
Falling hard over this girl, and it's not any surprise

I Wish I May, I Wish I Might

Marlboro light,
Ash turning white,
First breath I breathe tonight.
Spark the light, inhale, feeling right,
Close my eyes and slowly die.

Overflow

What the fuck is real, and what is fake?
We always sit aimlessly pondering, "What of my fate?
How many lives can I touch, what does it take?
How can I do what I love, and stock a hearty plate?"

All of these questions pressing constantly, they've got me restless
It's kind of hard to fathom when you've alway been the "next best"
Trying to tame my thoughts with drugs and meaningless sex,
Have to be blind for not seeing that these things can't bring success.

"Do your best, no matter what" I've always been told,
But doing my best and getting nowhere's getting fucking old.
How can you stay warm if you're always buried in the snow?
A happy face to show, with demons in my soul.

I've sat through bullshit and believed way too many lies,
I've gotten way too many calls saying that friends have died,
Whether it be in body, or deceased in mind,
Gave up everything I've ever had, don't sleep at night.

And I pay the price.

What the fuck is real, what do I know?
It takes everything that I've got not to just fucking blow
It's hard to get somewhere if you don't know which way to go,
Surrounded by so many people but always alone.

It's not an easy path, it's a treacherous road.
My head is tired, my mind is weak, my story's been foretold.
Futile attempts to stand up straight, and not to fold,
Doing everything I can not to be bought or sold.

This story never seems to end its infinite cycle
I really hope one day I'll be able to get it right though
Forever blinded by the synthetic highs and lows
Until I'm all alone with my thoughts, after the night slows.

They always say it's all about the journey, not the end
But I always catch myself hoping that around the bend
Something will be there for me, even if it's just a friend.
The journey's killing me, there's only so long I can pretend.

Open wounds to mend.

Transition

Late nights still young, 

Just kids, and dumb,

Running from

All good that comes,

Hearts grow numb

Feelings are shunned

And everyone

Will soon become

All alone.

Scarred, skin and bones

Scared of unknown

And monotoned

In sinking boats 

That really float

But only go

Around a moat

In denial.

Nothing is worthwhile,

Thoughts on a turnstile

Extending for miles

Lined up in file

Falsified smiles

Cunning and guile

Spilt down an aisle

Tears trickle.

Wounds from a sickle

Endlessly fickle

Peer through a brick hole 

To see light.

Use all your might

Hop on a flight

Swallowing pride 

Know it feels right

New warmth inside 

Staleness has died

Little butterflies 

New and clear sight

Thinking "this must be life" 

You blossom. 

An old, fragile doorway, with paint wearing thin.

A beautiful day, a fading grin.

Leaves singing songs, with the help of the wind.

A dust riddled patio, beaten couches to sit. 

Red, gray and orange, a wall made of bricks.

Empty beer cans, and burnt cigarettes.

And I am content, among all of this. 

Star Tripper

Night is completely underrated. The crisp air. The solemness and severe lack of the bustling sound of society. The vast, infinite blackness of the sky, with subtle speckles of sparkling stars. There is no other time in which the world is so still and calm, and no better time to collect your thoughts.  I love night.  When the business of the day slows down, nobody is rushing to get to get to insignificant places or do meaningless things (that for some reason seem oh so important). The world is so hurried. There isn't enough time in the world to please anyone, it seems. This is why I like night time.  I'm alone, while humanity slumbers, to breathe, and to not be concerned with small worries that are brought about within normal waking hours.

History

I know that this is kind of an uncomfortable topic for a lot of people, and that a lot of people would much prefer to stay blind to things like this, but I feel like it's really important. I will be going into a lot of detail about it, and it might be disturbing to some. So if you wish, feel free to continue reading.  If you'd rather not, I'm not offended.

If you know me well, chances are that I've opened up to you about having struggled very seriously with depression throughout my life. There's no reason, there's not a specific incident that took place that triggered my bouts of low self-esteem. I had a great life, grew up in a loving family, had everything I could have ever asked for...it's not something that I have ever been able to control. I've just simply been depressed. 

I first noticed that it was a severe issue when I was eleven years old, when I had my first incident of legitimately contemplating suicide.  I had always dreamed of running away, to get away from everything, thinking that it would make everything better; but I had never before thought up a plan to take my own life. 

I sat awake for hours and hours, for weeks, thinking about how best to off myself.  I wrote countless suicide notes and hid them throughout my room.  I decided I was going to do it oldschool, shove a knife straight through my stomach and let myself bleed out.  Luckily, one of my parents was awake late that night when I went downstairs. I sat and reflected on the decision, and chose that I was going to be better.  Good Charlotte had recently released their video for "Hold On", and it hit pretty hard that it wasn't worth it and I needed to stay. 

Nobody knew a thing about it.  

I started struggling in school, which was never even close to an issue before.  I started to be deviant, and lying about everything, whether it was even a big deal or not.  I could not figure out how to be happy, and it was taking a serious toll on me, physically and emotionally. 

Years went by, and I was doing a lot better. I'd still feel low every now and then, I mean, it's not like I was all cheery and happy all the time, but I hadn't thought about suicide in a very long time. I was playing highschool sports, had a good group of friends, traveling and playing music that I loved, and I was never alone with my thoughts.  I felt like the intentions I had beed repressing for so long were finally gone for good.  But then one night, I had a dream.

Yes, I know it's just a dream, but it scared the living shit out of me: 

I was sitting in a room with a circular table, and a light.  All you could see was the table and infinite blackness around it. 

Upon the table there was a gun, and a single bullet. 

I looked curiously at it, loaded the round into the chamber, stuck it into my mouth and pulled the trigger.

I floated out of my body and watched myself die.

This dream wasn't only scary because of the content of the dream; this dream meant something much more detrimental.  This dream brought awareness to the fact that those thoughts that I'd tried so hard to get rid of, those thoughts that I never wanted to ever cross my mind again...they had been laying dormant in the back of my head.  They weren't gone.  They were just sitting there in my subconscious, waiting for the perfect time to return.

I tried my best to never let it show.  Still, nobody had a clue about what was going on deep in my mind.  I'd hidden it and put up facades for almost ten years, and nobody knew a fucking thing about it.  I had too much pride.  

I started abusing substances, always trying to numb myself to my own thoughts, but of course it only hurt me worse.  

One day in the summer of 2012, everything finally exploded inside of me. I decided I was finally done.  

I drank an entire bottle of whiskey and drove through Logan Canyon at speeds greatly exceeding the limit, hoping that something would go wrong on the way over and that it would all look like an accident.  If I were to make it to Bear Lake, I was going to watch my last sunrise, and then on the way back, clip a guard rail and roll my car into a ravine hundreds of feet below.  I knew that canyon road like the back of my hand; I knew exactly where to flip my car so that it would be the most effective.  As I was flying down the road, a certain song came on on my iPod's shuffle.  "Amber" by Stick To Your Guns.  If you don't know what the song is about, it's about (in a very brief summary) a young girl who wants to die, but she doesn't know how much she means to everyone. It's about realization of self worth.  

That song came on, and it had to be fate.  I pulled over, broke down, and bawled for a very long time.  If it weren't for that song, it's pretty safe to say that I wouldn't be here. 

Since then, I've become much more open about my depression.  The reason being, I feel like it has helped me out in ways that nothing else could.  I'm too prideful to go to see a therapist about it.  I feel like the fact that people know about it makes it that much harder for me to ever be able to go through with it.  By letting you know, it's not that I'm seeking attention.  It's about the fact that I'm proud that I've overcome it, and dealt with it for so long. It's about showing that I trust that people actually care about me.  It's about holding MYSELF accountable, because I would never want someone to feel like it was their fault if I went through with it.

If you end up reading this, don't treat me any differently, like I'm unstable or need help. It's not like that at all. I'm perfectly healthy, and while I have breakdowns every now and then, I've come to realize that it's completely normal, and everyone does.

If you're ever dealing with depression, know that you're not alone in it. You're never alone. People legitimately want to help, and they care about you.  You are loved.  If you're ever feeling down at all, I encourage you to open up about it to someone. Anyone. It's so much better than keeping everything bottled up, because one day that bottle will blow up. It's the best thing that I've ever done for myself.

You can let it consume you, or you can be proud of what you've learned about yourself and who you've become because of it. 

Rant.

Since when did everyone become so damn scared of life? I swear to god, nobody DOES anything anymore.  I see so many people building their dream lives over social media platforms, rather than actually building their dreams to be lived out, and being too fucking scared to take a chance on anyone, because nobody wants to get hurt.

EVERYTHING that is worth it in life is going to hurt you at one point, to some degree or another.

You fail a class, and you lose a scholarship.  Detrimental.  Are you completely giving up on your degree? Hell no. 

You go snowboarding and break your wrist.  Are you going to stop snowboarding? I hope not. 

And so on.

Get over your glorified ideas of what life should be based around twitter and "__ Things You Should Know About ____" blogs, because life is not even close to that way.

End all these bullshit trends like awful grammar, "side hoes", and the rest of the monstrosity that has plagued our generation.  Go out and fucking do things.  Go meet someone new.  Go on dates.  Take a chance on that nice guy that you're so positive will end up turning into a complete asshole.  Go adventure.  Engage in risky behavior.  Get your adrenaline going.  Make moves and stake your claim.  You're going to be miserable, and that will never stop as long as you keep waiting for things to magically happen, rather than taking the initiative to make them. 

If you were to die today, would you be satisfied with what you accomplished with your time here?

No?

That's on you.

Stop being scared of life.

Sometimes it comes,

Sometimes it goes,

If it will last,

You'll never know,

When morning breaks

And nights are slow,

Take in a breath, and chill. 

Seasons change, 

Air grows cold. 

Leaves are falling, 

Harsh winds blow.

Heart leaves quick,

You lose your soul. 

And you remain, still. 

Sales Pitch

Sit and talk with me awhile, 

Your words are so intriguing. 

Wring me dry through endless guile,

Make me believe; deceive me. 

Take me by the hand and pull,

Lead my thoughts astray. 

Fill my desires; make me whole,

Subtly creep away. 

Let me ponder dusk til dawn,

Leave not one clue more. 

Burn the image my head's drawn,

Eat away the core. 

Cunning with your calm demeanor, 

Selling your falsified picture of self.

Feed me your bullshit on this golden platter,

Turn me into one more notch on your shelf. 

Have you ever had those days? Those days where, no matter how great or amazing, no matter how loved you feel, no matter how much you realize that what's done is done and there's nothing that can possibly change the past, you still dwell on it? 

It doesn't escape your mind. You try and try, to no avail. Nothing can rid your head of this daunting image that seems to pour through every pore, soar through every sore. 

Nothing helps. 

But it will be okay.

Sit back. 

Take a deep breath. 

Life carries on.

It's so hard to understand sometimes, I know this. Believe me, I know. 

But life goes on. And you will make it through. 

I'm going to try to write a poem,

but I'm not sure how it will go. 

Every porous, every single gaping abyss; hope it flows. 

I'm perched atop death row. 

I hear the songs of crows. 

I want to say the words "I Love You" to everyone that I have known. 

The top will surely blow. 

The dark side; it'll show.

This earth doesn't have a fucking clue what will soon unfold. 

I can't do this alone, 

For I lack a pure soul. 

If life was sure to cease tonight, what standards would I hold? 

Sometimes I Write

Sometimes I write about things that I've seen.

Sometimes I write about places I've been.

Sometimes the words just don't quite seem to fit.

Sometimes processing thoughts can be a bitch.

Sometimes I write to escape life's cold grasp.

Sometimes I want nights to forever last.

Sometimes tomorrow is too far away.

Sometimes the nights are longer than the days. 

Sometimes I write simply because of words.

Sometimes I wish I could fly like a bird.

Sometimes I rhyme, and sometimes I don't.

Sometimes I think, and sometimes I won't.

Sometimes my words are unprepared reactions.

Sometimes I can't rid myself of distractions.

Sometimes the world seems so lovely and dear.

But most times I really just wish you were here. 

Don't be sold by pretty words,

Or caught inside another's world,

Don't be hostage to the lies,

Wasting all your precious time,

Rotting away, day after day,

Hoping for flowers to be sent your way,

As our rock of life spins, 

You need just a grin,

And not to be fooled 

When they tell you you've sinned,

Because at the last day's end, 

Or prior to when life begins,

Nobody ever seems to know

What truly exists. 

So don't seek solace in pretty words,

To me it all seems rather absurd. 

The red hot sun is like napalm on the earth today, but not here. This place of beauty, where the trees, housing the birds that sing such sweet melodies, grow tall and firm; where the smoke delicately rolls off of the inscent and through my lips. Where the grass sunbathes, in its abundance of green. This place is perfect. This place is exactly where I want to be. This place is home. 

They dance elegantly across the sky;

Their majesty, simply so far away. 

But still intriguing to my weary eyes,

These glimm'ring things exalt life to this day.

The sky looms overhead as a disease,

Mountains engulf the sun; it fades to black.

I sit here and I wait, my soul appeased,

Though happiness, this place, it seems to lack.

Across the darkened land they flicker on,

The wind is calm and everything lies still. 

All sense of any puissance now gone; 

A crispness in the air; a subtle chill. 

I watch 'til morning comes and day's renewed,

Enthralled by wondrous chaos in my view.

Funny

Funny how we expect everyone to have the same perceptions as we do; how we see only the best in others. How we forgive time and time again those who don't deserve it, and shut out those that need a second chance. How we try so hard, but no matter what, it seems to never be hard enough. All of these things that wear and tear at us, bringing us beyond overwhelmed. All of these things, that are supposed to ultimately make us stronger. Yet we never feel like we're really becoming any stronger, simply like we're spinning in circles, going absolutely nowhere. Funny how we always find a way to blame our faults on everything around us, without ever considering that maybe, just maybe, the problem lies within the man in the mirror. 

Funny how none of these things are actually funny. 

Forward

Sometimes we will falter

Sometimes we will fail

But always, through dark days,

We somehow prevail.

No matter how fragile,

No matter how frail, 

No matter how vibrant,

Nor however pale.

Whether climbing a mountain,

Or rotting in jail,

My friend, you must never

Let passions grow stale.

This World

The cool breeze caresses my face as I inhale the sweet, sweet aroma of the freshly brewed coffee grounds. Morning is a time to be peaceful; to allow myself to remember how beautiful this earth on which we walk is, and how blessed we are to have been placed upon such an astounding phenomenon. Some much needed reflection, as I breathe in the crispness of the air, until I waste away the remainder of the day, behind a desk, in a fucking chair. 

Cup of Tea

A cup of tea

The tea is green

My soul's appeased

This calm evening 

The birds will sing

Delightful things

I am intrigued..

This is indeed

My cup of tea

Cigarettes and Coffee

Here I am. Sitting by my garden, awaiting the completion of my sun tea, quietly listening to the beautiful melodies from the birds that have made themselves present in my backyard. What a gorgeous day! The swings are slowly swaying back and forth, caught in Mother Nature's calm, steady breathing. The subtle rustling of the leaves. How peaceful to observe all of this, as I sip from this ceramic mug while ashes fall from the tip of my burning roll of dried leaves. 

A CHALLENGE TO YOU

If you know me at all, chances are you've been exposed to the type of music known as "Hardcore", or any of its sub-genres.  And, chances are, you hated it with every part of your being.  You probably call it "screamo" or, if you're one of those exceptionally ignorant people, "devil music".  Little do you know, hardcore literally saved my life.

Yes, it's aggressive. It's raw. It's energy-fueled. It's pissed off, and it's in your face.  No, hardcore bands aren't played on the radio, they don't hit top 40 charts, and they don't sell out stadiums. But the message they send is undeniably real, and inspiring. It's about loyalty, family, and sticking up for what you believe in.  Never backing down.  Never giving up. 

Who doesn't love motivational lyricism?  

I could go on and on forever with examples on why I love this scene more than any other, but nothing I could say will make a damn bit of difference until you actually open yourself up to it.  So this is what I'm trying to do. 

I CHALLENGE EACH OF YOU TO GO TO A HARDCORE SHOW WITH AN OPEN MIND, AND TELL ME ABOUT YOUR EXPERIENCE.  LET YOURSELF GET LOST IN THE PASSION.  LET THE ENERGY TAKE YOU OVER.  PAY ATTENTION TO WHAT THE BANDS ARE SAYING.  GET INTO A PIT.  STAGE DIVE. THERE IS A PLACE IN THE HARDCORE SCENE FOR EVERYONE, SO THROW AWAY YOUR PRIDE AND GIVE IT A CHANCE. COMPLETELY LET YOURSELF GO. IT WILL CHANGE YOUR LIFE.

If you live in Pocatello, here's a good chance. My good friends in Mata Leon are playing tonight at Deckadence. We all know there isn't shit else going on in that town, so get out and experience it.  Here are the details. 

This Is Growing Up

High school. What a joke.  But I wouldn't trade those four years for anything.  I had great friends, a great family, and everything that I knew was always so EASY.  I was handed my life on a silver platter. I really was.  I lived my life up until that point looking for nothing but the arrows along a trail that my parents and teachers had laid out for me from the beginning.  I flew through high school with relatively good grades, and I had the best times in the world, but all the while, I can't remember a single academic thing that I learned. The things that I did learn, though, however awful some of them are, were the beginnings of my finally discovering that I could actually think for myself.

I learned how to hold my liquor and remedy a hangover.
I learned how to jump fences.
I learned that sports are great, but politics are bullshit.
I learned to be a sneak.
I learned to be a fantastic liar.
I learned that being 'insubordinate' is much more exhilarating than following the rules.
I learned to psychologically manipulate authority figures.
I learned how to forge teachers' signatures on attendance slips.
I learned to play music.
I learned to be comfortable getting in front of a crowd and losing my mind.
I learned that I love poetry and literature.
I learned that music is my favorite therapy.
I learned that I have the mental strength to overcome suicide.
I learned that guys are assholes, but girls are no better.
I learned how to open myself to new possibilities and ideas.
I learned that none of these things make me a bad person.
I learned that deviance can be completely okay.

And so many other things.  But could I go back into my memory and explain basic algebra? Not a chance. All these things that I was forced to read and reread, over and over and over again, I never understood why.  It didn't occur to me until recently that I didn't have to understand why.  I was learning through my own experiences, on my own terms.  I was creating an identity for myself.  I was learning how to live for me.

Point, Shoot.

This is my first attempt at writing a blog, and I'm not sure exactly how to go about it.  I've never delved too far into the minds of bloggers.  I feel like it's time that I changed this.  

I have to give all of the credit in my deciding to start up this project to my good friend Mickelle, who, sadly, moved hundreds of miles away.  I will randomly see her writing pop up on Facebook, and the way that she pours her every thought out into her posts is inspiring to say the least.  I miss her dearly, and cannot wait until I can make it down to St. George so she can show me amazing places, and we can adventure (as we were always so stoked to do before). 

If you should be so compelled to follow my life, you will see two faces.  

You will see "positive vibes" and the way that I interpret certain experiences that I have found beautiful or miraculous.  You will see the places I go, and learn about the things that I learn through the way I perceive them.

Or, you will see an angry, lost, scared child, who is desperately trying to decipher these puzzles that dauntingly drown his desires, his dreams...his disastrous dark days doomed by depression.  

It ultimately doesn't matter which face you're looking for.  Somewhere in the middle, you will find an abundance of bizarre topics and thoughts.  I'm not looking for your approval.  I'm not seeking your advice.  You may or may not think that I am insane, but that's just how life goes.  If you choose to continue on the path to wherever my head may lead, I hope that I can at least give you some new insights to help you become your best self.  Now, let's see where it takes us. 

Cheers to new things.