Popping Expecations

Sometimes when I hear people speak,

It's like tasting burnt popcorn.

And wanting to cover it in butter,

To satisfy my taste buds.

As I eat the popcorn I remember that time,

I was on a hot air balloon.

As it expanded my horizons,

On the world itself. Instead of getting that same lifting,

Perspective that expanded my world's viewpoint.

The balloon just pops you know?

I don't even land on a soft surface...

Just a cactus through my spine.

An Artist's Trick To Peace

Let's count our breaths to a tune,

Of a non-existent clock.

There's nothing really ordinary

About the way anxiety creeps and crawls,

Causing your spine to shiver.

It will eventually lock onto your head,

Probably tattoo your brain with every

Vile thought that you've ever had.

As it will melt yourself down the drain,

Back into the ocean like a dead pet fish...

To rid yourself of this it feels as though,

You are about to paint on a blank canvas.

With hands already shaking, you feel yourself

Messing up but, to be at ease means,

You have to take a breath, no matter how harsh

All you can do now is to accept it as art.