Aaren Herron
3 min readJul 6, 2022

I sit here, notebook in hand
Praying this next bit will land
A few eyes are caught
A couple voices are fraught
With the attempt at breaking a mind
One that I so humbly call mine
It’s not what you say
It’s how I chose to play

Do I take it back to grade school?
Too afraid to try out of fear I’ll look a fool
A slight push of engagement
Interrupted by an apprehensive pull of detachment
Encapsulating an image of being
Unallowed within a mental spring

But springs can break
Disallowing fate what it hopes to take
Hoping to control your narrative
Like some type of social contraceptive
Never fully allowing heartbreak
While equally shunning the happiness we generate

“Did you know that Aaren doesn’t care?”
It’s simply not fair
I cannot allow myself the simple pleasure
Of reading about our love in a letter
For the others might cue in with bitter
Hatred of the self
Hoping to expand in its tainted wealth
Until all is consumed
Until we’re all entombed

So, even though you don’t feel
Outside of a pain filled squeal
Even though you attempt to bring me with you
Through a path lined with horrors in the pew
I’ll choose to embrace in the love
The love you sought eternally
Never taking a glance internally
Particularly, hoping its existence
Was one of perpituity
On the edge of your hands
Needing one last sacrifice
To find itself in your heart at night

So, I jump under the bus
Hoping to stop the wheels from turning
Allowing the mechanic to take a look
Hopefully we’ll be able to make more than just a left turn.

Then again

It’s always the same thing
Not a tune sung by Ed on Page
Rather, a headache fueled in hate
Of choices made and love we take

Floating absently in a downstairs daydream
Waiting for the light above to finally turn off
Too late into the night, it does
For I’ve already slipped too far off
Dazed and confused, wishing it could be “Alright, alright, alright.”

Alas, the climax is light years away
A trip forward that jumped too far
Leaving that dream a decade behind
Illuminated by a growing canities
Blasting a love warning by Cat Janice

It should only take a few more months
Of constant battling between the self
And Me
We shouldn’t have to run and flee
But the future is always impossible to see

I fight the urge
I moisturize what I’ve learned
While praying the light above finally goes out
Allowing the darkness to take me off
Towards a greater place

Built upon the struggles of Me
Fertilized by blood set free
With a pen and pad of much need
Stained by tears filled with weed

Tuesday comes, allowing me the opportunity
To come clean and sanitize that which breathes
Demonic words down my spine
Of Self Immolation as an act of conception

Wednesday comes and I can’t feel my fingers
Days, months, and years spent breaking a foundation
Has left my mind in tonal constipation

It’s the same thing every week
Unable to speak or stand on two feet
Watching numbers drain from the account
While resting my head on a $1600 plank of wood

It’ll never end
The same thing
Forever and ever
Even after the light above goes out
I’ll still be waiting for this bedroom to grow dim

On an Island in the Sun
There will finally be nowhere left to run

Hip Hip



Aaren Herron

Creative writer working to hone his craft, no longer at the expense of a mental state.