Not Aimless, Not Lost, Lonely.

Don’t know what to do.

Useless.

Helpless.

Don’t know where to go.

Clumsy.

Awkward.

Don’t know what to say.

Silent.

Silence.

That’s all there is to it. If only there was an easy answer. If only the mystery could be solved quickly.

Solitude.

That’s not what’s wanted. That’s what’s received.

Given.

Taken.

Pride.

No desire, can’t ask for company.

Burden.

 

There’s Nothing Like You

Craving you.

That’s all.

Your invisible smile.

Your imaginary body.

Your see through heart.

What kind of inspiration would it take to materialize you? To what end would patience expend itself before you would appear, opaque, existent?

Craving you.

Craving you.

Sounds like a song.

A long lost dream.

A faraway memory.

Is it insanity to want what doesn’t exist? If at times there are standards for any mortal to aspire to then that’s what it is. A dream.

Just a dream.

A feeling.

A desire.

No matter how much I get…

Craving you…

In all fairness, they say you can’t hold a body to the same morals you hold yourself to. Why? Shouldn’t every tower try to stretch as high as it can? Even if it is only two feet tall?

We should.

Should.

Could.

Would.

Did.

Want to be the best we could be. Somewhere along that forked line someone lost their way and others followed. Somehow, being the very best was going too far and being good enough was too much.

The fence.

Now, everyone’s trying to get over.

Some need help. They don’t get it. Some do.

Some help others over. Sometimes they make it. Sometimes they don’t.

Most of them…

Just sitting on this side, waiting for nothing, no trying.

Falling short of the mark.

Expectation.

Reality.

All the very best got over. Only the very best get over.

But…

They aren’t on the side where reality seems to pervade the minds of those sitting on their rears contemplating never trying.

To those thinkers, the ones who got over…

Well…

There’s no way. It’s a lie. They can’t exist.

So…

That’s why you don’t exist. The very best is going too far. Good enough is asking too much.

But…

There’s nothing like you.

Nothing.

Truly.

Swear.

Get over that fence one day.

For me.

For us.

I need you.

I’m lonely.

Hurry.

Potential

Far above the water, stands safety.

They come like thunderclaps, sudden, necessary.

But…is there a such thing as an end?

Continuity…

Fractured thoughts…

The rushing train of eloquent chaos bids rise to order.

Confusion.

Insanity.

It’s all art.

Disjointed.

Instant.

Needed beyond the backdrop of mortality.

Consider…

Ponder…

Wonder…

There’s a chance to find peace. There is only the long journey to find it.

There’s Nothing Left

Eyes gazing upwards, beseeching, begging, willing, urging…

But there’s only silence.

The voices died a long time ago. They were never listening anyway. Their faces just twitched and contorted as they grimaced and chuckled, too distracted by their own ruminations. 

But there’s always hope. There was always hope. Even if the voices abandoned the eyes, there’s should still be motivation.

Unrestrained release.

Not allowed.

There’s no need for that.

Forget.

Ignore.

Distraction.

Redirect.

The eyes know what they want but they only see. They can feel, that can’t feel. Can they?

There’s a journey I need to take. But where would I go? Where would I go? 

Give up. 

That’s not an option.

Choices.

Autonomy. 

We deserve ourselves. Ourselves? Our choices. Our options. Too many options.

That was never something the eyes knew about. The mouth just wanted to babble. The voices poured forth like a waterfall rampant.

Out of control.

Unrestrained.

Unresolved.

Past problems. Dark issues. Concerning troubles. Face your issues.

Issues.

Repeat.

Ignore.

Silence.

There’s nothing left. But maybe there’s hope behind the curtain.

All I hear are the voices, chattering, their volume rising to a full roar. The eyes have it. The eyes have it.

No one understands.

There’s nothing left.

But there’s hope. On the horizon.

Level.

Balance.

Is there harmony? Am I here? There? Inspire me.

The eyes are sensing the world about. The life that beats in the veins of earth. The voices are guiding me.

They don’t listen. They don’t know the secret.

There’s nothing left. 

Lifetime…continued

There she sits, silent, motionless, emotionless.

Her tears vapor, long cried, long dried…

There’s nothing inside her but emptiness, that kind of hollowness that pervades the very reaches of a strained soul.

Strained.

Stress.

Holes?

Baby her, new in the world. Her eyes windows, not to her soul, that was…is…unreachable. So serious her affect, so deep and unyielding. This youngling enters the world, less than hour old, already as old as the earth itself.

Child her, still a stranger but learning. Her mind teams with thoughts, foreign, unknown, unspoken. No words can aid her. She is not yet a master of the right ones.

Slaves.

Slave.

Enslaved.

Chains.

Chained.

Silence echoes. She cowers beneath the solitude of sleep, willing her teaming thoughts to muster the strength to break free. They won’t. They can’t. They tried.

Every strike is taken for the team. At first, the waterworks were always invited. Now..nothing.

Silence.

She holds it all back behind a dam that has threatened for so long to burst under the burden laden of darkness, of pain, of anger, of sadness.

There is no convincing the powers that be of her innocence, of her desire for justice, of her request for a fair trial, an adequate hearing…

Nothing.

Something.

She splutters something. She can’t say anything.

Disbelief.

Why does she speak? Waste her time? Utter heavy words into empty, deaf air?

Defeated.

Off on a journey, she returns, still defeated. She has accomplished nothing. She returns empty handed.

And here she is today, silent, grim, stubborn. She will not share the thoughts chomping at the bit, threatening, struggling to break free.

They won’t be heard.

Understood…

Ignored.

Continue.

Continue.

There is no hope in regret. Continue and be of use to someone even if you yourself are spent from failing yourself for so long.

Go.

Continue.

Here I Am

That’s it.

This is where it ends.

The edge.

Down it falls.

Falling.

Lost.

Slipped.

Failed.

That was all in the past. That was just a memory the mind was trying to forget. A black skeleton it tried to push back into the closet.

Failed.

Tried.

So…

Here I am.

Returned.

Attempting to battle this wave of darkness, this sea of dark despair, this tsunami of silent desperation to be heard, to be known, to be felt.

It’s not easy, wading through these waters that threaten to drown our very souls. Our bleak faces blunted by our experiences. We hide behind our words, our smiles.

Fake.

Liars.

We…I have no choice. Do I? How can I open up this box and unleash this dark demon to burden the world?

So here I am…

Edge…

This Blank Face

No indication…

No hint…

No glimpse…

…Of what exists beneath this blank face.

Assumption.

Theory.

Conjecture.

All the same. All useless.

Despite this monochrome map, there is more beneath the surface, like an iceberg.

Hidden.

Latent.

Occluded.

Cloaked.

And those that glance upon these blank faces, they cannot know, begin to understand, to perceive, to sense the pain, the reality buried beneath.

So, they invent stories for these supposed blank slates. They disrespect the very individuality that exists for all. They selfishly project the emotions they think they see.

There’s nothing to see.

Until I’m ready.

How dare you.

Fool.

We are not blank slates. We are not fresh. We are not new. We are not blank. Your eyes are dusty.

Grimy.

Filthy.

You perceive wrong. You are wrong.

Your eyes cannot see the truth. It is so bright, so glaring, so palpable…that all you see is blankness.

Blind.

You Are Beautiful

You never gave up on me.

That loyalty.

That dedication.

That resolve.

That love.

That selflessness.

It could not be outmatched. Your eyes are always on the horizon, always seeing the vision of the future, always cast ahead. Not once do you look back, not once do you regret.

Every step forward is purposeful, intentional, deliberate. You are powerful.

I am in awe.

I am thankful.

I am overwhelmed.

I don’t always feel wanted.

Heard.

Seen.

Felt.

Loved.

But you…

You are one of a kind. You are not a god. Not a demon. Not a anything. You are a concept. A figment of my mind?

You should teach the world the meaning of the word: love.

Freedom to Speak about what Hurts Us

There is no expectation to remove the mask that dams the flow of emotion…

Of palpable honesty…

Of untarnished realism…

Of genuine nakedness…

There is no expectation because the other members of the masquerade do not have room in their inner minds to entertain multiple floods of such emotionally charged natures.

There should be an expectation however, because these dams…

They overflow…

They crack…

They rupture…

Yet there is none…

No one has any room…