July the Villain.

The truth of the matter?

Sometimes the caverns overtake
And I start to wonder about things
That I haven’t wondered about in months

The fact of the matter?
I’m full of sin and arrogance
Today? I’m a partial narcissist.
(I just spent the last hour comparing myself to other pictures.)

Being real?
I’m not a part of a fit-club:
 I do yoga and stuff
I drink fancy drinks with chia seeds
Forget the health needs:
I like the way it tastes
And that’s all I should need to say.

Honestly?
It’s sunny outside but I’m stuck in September ways
I’d rather think of September than think of today.
I’d take drywall over grass and sunshine
I’d take creeks over malls and cities.

I’d rather bake a pie than eat another cherry
I’d rather have French fries and be a little chubby

If I knew the answer to what invades my dreams,
To what makes me dream these things…
Perhaps I could force myself to sleep

A sigh and a cup of coffee starts the day:
When September rolls around,
I’ll hear July’s scoffing remarks:
“Nothing is okay.”  

But then I remember:
Every July is the same
And September never stops coming.

Honestly?
Today’s just another day,
And truthfully?
I’m okay.
(I’m always okay.)  

 September is around the corner
July's Catastrophe can take her swing
 

I'm several years in and counting. Give me your best shot because I'm not done fighting.

Rachel 

Seattle.

It’s a new place with old buildings
It’s sweet and savory coffee.
It’s midnight and waking up late with headaches.

It’s this place.

There’s a market with people who walk too fast
And girls that smile who haven’t showered
It’s upright pianos and harmonicas
It’s fancy and poverty in one.

It’s musicians in the rain.

It’s godless and it’s full of God
It’s love and it’s hate.  
It’s green but it’s gray.
It’s scheme with no rhyme,
Rhythm without sound.

It’s looking at you and turning around.

It’s mad, but it’s sane
It’s depressed, but it’s okay
It’s fast but it’s slow

It’s staying still and trying to go.

It’s shiny and new
It’s grunge through and through
It’s basements where music's produced
It’s false and it’s true

It’s me and it's you.
It's you through and through.

~Rachel~