
Maybe you were meant
To be lost, this unknown
Spot on the map is
Exactly where you were
Supposed to be all along
Blast from the past:
Everything we want
Is so crystal clear until
We win possession
The Cracked Door – Daily Haikus
Reflections on life, the world, and society. Come explore with me.

Maybe you were meant
To be lost, this unknown
Spot on the map is
Exactly where you were
Supposed to be all along
Blast from the past:
Everything we want
Is so crystal clear until
We win possession

I would expect storms
To take over these calm waters.
It’s getting ready
To explode in my little
Teacup inside which I hide.
Blast from the past:
New definition
Of class—having the means to
Afford a break down.

I sit in the park
My chest still
Against the dizzying motion of life
My feet planted, clasping
Against the grass to keep still
My mind roams a thousand new worlds
Blast from the past:
I’m slow getting
What I believe, say, and do
Into harmony

Can you ever really meet
Someone new anymore, or
Have you gotten too
Many scratches to build with
Anything like a clean slate?
Blast from the past:
You saw me as just
A part of your day. To me,
You were my day.

Every time we talk,
I feel like I can’t
Recognize who you
Once seemed to be
Blast from the past:
So many thoughts rush
Through my mind. Unsorted, yet
Each fight for my time.

All I had was white space
Flight plans
Videos made
People to meet
Just enough to
Crash and burn
Blast from the past:
In one’s inner drive
Lies social expectations,
What’s the difference?

When death comes for me,
I want to walk through that door
Brimming with the wonder
Of bride who took
The world in her arms
Blast from the past:
Stones and pottery
Once teeming with life
Now encased forever

He sits there napping
On the curb, his feet splayed out,
His back against his bags,
A reminder that this place
Is a vortex of isolation
Blast from the past:
Wisdom is what you seek
When you have too much money
And time on your hands

I Try to Fly So High
I want to try to fly.
My lie is that I’d fly so high.
I can try to fly.
I cry as I fly.If I fly, I’ll die.
My cry will fly so high.
I buy the lie to fly so high.
I fly to strive to try.I hide to not fly so high I’d die.
Can I just try to fly?
I cry each time I fly so high.
I lie as I try to fly.My time to fly is nigh.
I must fly to not die.
Why lie when I can fly?
I must try to fly.Don’t try to fly so high.
I fly to try to strive.
I fly so high I cry.
I fly so high I’ll die.I cry, “Why can’t I fly?”
When I fly so high, I die.
I’d die to try to fly.
I try my lie that I will fly.I strive to try to fly.
I fly with no cry to die.
I’d lie to fly so high.
I lied to fly so high I’d die.My try is that I’d fly so high.
I lie that I will fly.
My cry will lie and die.
Less try. Just fly. Don’t die.
(An edited version of a former poem from a while ago to make it more how I wanted it)
Blast from the past:
Living in the space
There between the bullet
And the gun barrel

The lights flicker in the darkness
As I gaze out the high rise window
Cars and bikes halt
On streets too narrowThey try to rush to work
Among the vast expanse
Of restaurant chains
That they can’t afford
Blast from the past:
In a new city
As the fervor of the day
Transforms into night,
I lie here remembering
That I’m just a hollow shell.