Alone

With my thoughts on the line between sane and insanity,
I live with the remembrance of my aspired one.
The emotions of my pants come and go, but
I still evolve in my identity and personality.

Stay with me electronically; any connection is more desired than none.

Welcome Back

The days are long now.
I awake at the winter's dawn, but the outside's brightness shines full blast through the partially covered window into the boxed room.
The smell of fresh rain storm hits my nose after I step up from bed.
I instinctually walk towards the pot of black caffeine and pour it into my thrift store mug.
The coffee touches my lips and I begin the wake-up process.
However, there is nothing to wake up for today.
There is little to do until the work begins,
So I shall enjoy the vacuum of responsibility while I have it.
Just sit and watch the scattered thunderstorms through the window with the coffee at hand.
Feel the rest and recuperation, and prepare for the coming storm.

Poem for the Dumped

Why? Is the first question that pops into my head.
Why are you doing this?
We restarted, we renewed everything. It was never
Going to feel the same way, of course.
That's what the renewal was going to do.
I was never going to forget the or deny the past, but
We had a present and future to make together.

You are the one, but you didn't let me try.
I wasn't given enough time to try again at the woo,
And discuss how to proceed.
We could have found an answer to the big questions:
Why are relationships hard?
Why does growing up suck?
Can't we still fight it?

I just walked outside on that day, and the clouds tumbled.
Bye bye. Goodbye. I tried.

Thoughts of the Fever

I'm tired, but I cannot sleep,
Exhausted, but can't stay still.
Anxiety has overrun my insides, but I allow it to flourish.
Deep down I am a destinist. Whatever happens, happens, and there is nothing I can do to stop it.
The world moves and we cannot stop or control it.
Just allow it to continue moving. And we must
Continue moving on it, with it. Not against it,
That does not work.

The Natural always gets its way to balance out the universe.
And Balance is what we need to keep for ourselves, as well as the Earth.
'Tis our only home and we cannot trash it as the Frat boy does his house.
We must clean and organize our minds as we do our homes, and not
Allow the clutter to gain power over us.
Keep the balance and move along.
That is our purpose and our destiny.

Night at the Apartment

The world is all wrong.
Why do we fight for religions when others don't want to hear the message?
The parents of America don't always praise us, but when they do, it's grand and shows their love of us.
My clan has always given me respect to live my life
And I praise them for that.
I love and respect them all.

I cannot imagine my life without them.  It would be probably be a bit worse.
I love meine fruende and me amigos.
They always aid and support me.

Me without you would be a terrible life.
I thank the deity for my life (I should do it more often).
Please keep on the correct path,
And never let me fall again.

I don't enjoy the stress and anxiety of school, but I look foreword to the career future.

Keep my feet going and my mind thinking.

THANK YOU ALL.
I LOVE YOU

Rain Is Not Conducive to the Working Day

How do I become productive with pellets of ice falling on my face?
The last straw of my psyche is biking in sleet infested air killing my vision.
I still don't know fully how to reprimand it correctly.
That's what the voice of reason is for and used to help me with.
And now I am supposed to be on my own without a complete preparation of how to be a member of life?
So now I will minimally work and gain the most average record as always.

One More Night of Lap Sessions

I miss her so, and I desperately want to be back in her arms.
Life never works the way one plans or wants it to;
It makes its own plans.
To just be friends, better in theory than practiced,
Will not be what I want.

I lie awake and alone, in bed, and dream of her
Lying next to me, cuddling me.  I can see her there sometimes,
And I weep joyfully. Then my eyes are open, again.

Some pasts we long to and hold them tight, some we
Don't even acknowledge, and then
Others, we see them, and comprehend them, but rarely
Bring them out of the basement.

The basement. I am still frightened to go to some
Corners in that dark underground abyss.
Why have I not honestly dusted down here and
Let my creatures come out for a picnic?

Why can't we be honest? Why do we keep so much pain
Stuffed in boxes down stairs?  Why can't we share them?
Because the social norms claim it not polite; to never
Open them and always keep them hidden because others
Don't want to see the nastiness.
Just let them fester into a mental illness.

Life will never let these monsters be thrown by the wayside,
And shipped to a dump.
Even though they are thrown away,
They still are.

Where is the Speaker of the Truth? Where is the Voice of Wisdom?  Where is the Knower of All?
That ole hermit who can teach us what to do.

If this is progressing, why do I still feel like crap?