I am distracted and disgusted
Trapped inside a ritual
I never knew I’d slipped into.
I woke alarmed,
Spoke slowly,
Yet saw no change becometh.
Then there I was: forgotten,
Within myself: outwardly,
Expecting another to change,
Or not to be,
Or be completely..
And I had nothing for my pain
For it was all consumed
By my distraction
Disgusting me.
Tag: myself
Why (day 2763)
I ask myself why
Not knowing I’ve never known
Can the silence exist
Though no soul partakes
To let the other side be felt?
Through screens
And irrational blank spots
I rush
To no spell I have listened to.
By my wild eyes
I have come here to exist;
There, too,
Shall running scenes
Invoke my childishness.
Silent Back Support (day 2405)
When are you going to turn the music back on?
I’ve sat her for a while now
Wondering to myself
Should I suggest a new album
Or enjoy the silent humming
Visiting my ouroboros thought pattern.
I picture something with a nice bassline
Hopefully some creamy smooth lead
That will do a better job
Of snaking my thoughts around
Too many small stools
Lacking proper back support.
World in You (day 2311)
This is for the world in you
The orb that pumps so freely
So guided and gentle
So fierce and powerful
So knowing and certain
And comforted and questioning.
This is for standing tall and yelling
I FUCKING LOVE YOU
Because I do love you
And I hold you in more than just my thoughts
For my strength is more than just my muscles
I hold you in my self
For myself
You who are myself and who are else
Who tempts me
And shows me
And lifts me
And challenges me
Who gargles my breath and spits out my flesh
Who grips on tight when the lights turn down low
Who opens each door knowing
That on the other side
There will be no more turning back
Because this is for the world in you
And the world in you is calling
On the world inside of you
To take comfort
With the world in you
Because this world in you
Is for the world in you.
Ode to a Gangly Tree to Rest Under (day 1767)
If I may
I’ll take a stay
Sit myself
Under your shelf
Enjoy a spell
Drink from your well
And listen
To your singing leaves
As the pitter patter
Of my moment’s peace
Flutters to a calm.
Plans, Man (day 1712)
Yesterday I was a man
Today I have no sin
A better man,
A bigger name,
Confessed and over spent.
Am I awake?
I’ve pinched myself
I see with my two eyes.
Yet here I sit
Under used
And selling ideas
For a much bigger plan.
Half-Truths (day 1531)
Lately I’ve been having existential crisis’.
They’ve been keeping me up
Tangling my tempered mind
With truisms that cannot be unfolded.
I’ve found life to give answers
I’m not prepared to ask,
I’m not ready to ask,
I’m not asking!
But still I ask and ask away,
Leading me to sleepless nights;
Circles of half-truths
And mind-truths and kinda-truths
And not-truths.
Until I am truth understanding
There is no truth at all.
I take long bike rides in straight lines
To avoid circling back upon myself.
I have been thinking I’m not thinking,
I’m not leading,
I’m not excelling.
All I’m doing is pretending
To be deep within my journey,
But my journey’s not a journey!
My sleepless night is real,
And so are the dreams
That speak truths and not-truths.
Decisions (day 947)
Face to face with myself
And not a shout to match my anger
Gross exaggeration of ignorant ideals
Spun into webs amongst my dizzy spins
To catch me when I fall down
Strangely grasping, gasping for air
Leaning out the window at
Ninety miles and hour where
Oppression isn’t meaningless
Sunken windows blow over the moonlight
As my smile begins to fade, enrage
Standing at my post
Face to face with myself
From Without Within (day 354)
I have been watching myself crawl around these corners as of late, from the mirrors encircling this room that I lay upon
I quite enjoy the serenity of observing oneself from within the landscape of ones own charm
It’s like a close encounter with another, a feature that has never quite grown old and continues to grow
Comfort like a curve that has yet to be populated with the distinction of hair
These mirrors are not cracked at all, nor do I plan to crack them
Perhaps I grow old and shed my find cloak like the snake that glows
But I shall not tire of watching the curves of my eyebrows race their way south
Into the depths of my ear lobes and further towards my nose
I shall not grow weary of the assembly gathered upon my chest
Some of them curly, lots of them old crow
I don’t believe in alterations of the plastic kind
Those which require surgeons to enhance what doesn’t seem to exist
This is a modern folly, of which I am not victim
Perhaps it would be better I didn’t voice my opinion
I as my master do conquer what I’m made of
I listen to its lurches, I succumb to its will
I help it move forward and feed it more fuel
Today I have explored from without and within