Resting in the Pines

I rest in the pines.

The trees are my comfort in this secluded area in Seattle.

I ran to the pines to find peace.

To find my final resting place.

I can’t see the sun.

I can’t see the reasons I should continue on.

I never wanted to be famous.

I never wanted to have this much cash at my disposal.

I miss the days of going into a local thrift store and paying with pocket change for that one item that I loved.

The famous green sweater that I would wear as often as I could.

This sweater meant more to me than being able to buy the entire store.

The Lexus in my driveway means nothing to me.

I long to be poor again and couch surf while playing small venues and not be recognized in public.

My anxiety rises the more people know my name.

I can never be alone with my thoughts again.

I never wanted to be a rock star.

I never wanted to be the voice of a generation with a song that was not my favorite that has been overplayed on MTV and the radio.

I don’t even like to perform “Smells like Teen Spirit.”

I fake it through the lyrics and play it as fast as possible to get it done and over with.

Why is this the song that makes the crowd cheer the loudest?

I am the ghost of Kurt Cobain.

Some believe I was murdered.

Others see the truth and that I was set out to destroy my life and no one was going to stop me.

I checked myself out of rehab and I went home to rest in the pines.

I leave behind a wife that will be blamed for my suicide.

She may have been cold emotionally.

But drug addiction takes its toll on my body and my soul.

My mind could not find a place to rest in this world of record labels.

I just wanted to have fun and play some shows.

I didn’t want to play to sold-out arenas around the world and have millions of eyes on me at the same time.

This was not my happy place.

Others were making money off me hand over fist.

“Nevermind” was a best seller and soon became my least favorite album.

I was told to double my voice and use other studio effects on my voice to make it sound crisper.

To tune the gravel and feelings out of myself.

The raw sounds of “Bleach” were no more.

My freedom was lost.

I was faking it through happiness.

I was no longer 100% there.

I sold my soul to the devil.

Now I rest in the pines.

*This poem is featured in "Peeling Sanity" Due for release in October 2018. Be sure to check out my other poetry collections on Amazon.

Check out my Author Page on Facebook!

Check out my Poetry!

Check out my Music Articles!

Check out my Beauty Articles!

Check out my Makeup Articles!