‘Any thought can be tolerated, even this one’,
Becomes an obsessional loop,
A contradictory statement on repeat
That works to ease tension
And stop the mind from back flowing.
Insurance and affirmation it’s not a lie
Breathes from within.
The warmth and contentment cant be faked,
So belief becomes the norm,
And fear a fractured shadow.
Our own mind a nemesis
A fact created from evolutionary frailties
Or a sick trick from ones creator?.
To question is to fall back to the trap.
Accept the fractured imperfections
Of the conscious mind,
The dark humour mixed with reality,
And live with glory of imagination,
The power to create expressivly
And freedom to do so.
Once we let go of ourselves
Control is restored,
Balance becomes silent,
And Living becomes unnoticed.
Thinking is nights blinking
Keeping awake the conscience
Alerting panic to stand by
Even though it’s a lie.
Sanity briefly held together
By a strand of rationality
That’s left in a reality.
Would I really do this
Could this really happen?
No not today, or ever,
But the mind lives it as truth
Senses and heart in overdrive
Bringing death closer through neglect.
The body lives by the heads guidance
Believing the false inevitable,
Asking what’s the use
In carrying on towards oblivion
As an supposed evil or fractured person
In this squalor we call freedom.
If the eyes saw what the body felt
The shock would kill the soul,
The hand would let blood flow,
Flooding the sanctuary of the mind
Until there can be no more questioning,
No Arguing or inner struggles with ones self.
Is it best to surrender prematurely
Instead of forever defining
Peoples altered perspectives of love and hate?.
I wish I had the strength to just lay down and die
And release my soul, to this unknown fate.
To believe in the chemical of blackness,
A slight of light in the sky, turns out to be a fool’s romance.
Which means stars are a gift from distance,
Not a shooting mirage, viewed by chance.
The past is the past until it doesn’t last,
When does it start catching up to you?
The answer is never,
if you endeavor to end history prematurely.
Get off, get on the ride
Both a form of suicide
Dont just weep on seeing the sheep,
Wander to your own haven
Where thoughts are enslaved
And banished on the grounds of rationality.
Can never change a believer
Unless doubt breeds from within,
Then belief becomes a story
An ugly fairy tale
That grew its roots in truth
But no longer serves a purpose
Other than a reminder
Imagination has a sensation
That lends itself to emotional illusion.
First thoughts I dispense with caution
Notion with an ironic flaw
A split second occurrence
With no stage for reflection
Containing irrational undertones
Speed ‘Becomes’ essence
Dismay is uncontrolled
Outlines feasible complications Conversation is to-be heeded
True words believed, transpired with time
Character prevails via choices
Shaped by unrushed competence
Instant verbs evolve and mature
Sharp decisions cease to race
Knowledgeable peace combines
Sheds light on existence
Judgement swallowed by reality
Being misconceived becomes scarce
Harmony elected with a mutual dignity.
Wipe the moisture from words spoken
Then was a different time.
A shallow belief in the healing power
Not only appearances change
Internal aspects develop
Maturing to produce surprising acts.
I wish we would meet once more
My personality now encouraged to spread.
Stood from where it hid
Shadowed and intimidated
By beauty and popularity.
I was neither in my own eyes
Abuse proved the ideals of my self worth
Mirrored and lived
Through the script of thoughts.
Still my reflection is disgruntled
Shattered pieces of soul
Depicting memories of scattered remains.
When time passes by what’s left. Regret, guilt and shame, being bored?. Is that a life to live, a story to share with young loved ones.
No, procrastinating is an humorous excuse used too often. If you want to live a calm, comfortable life then that’s fine, but don’t talk bigger, or imagine a better future if you’re happy.
No-one wants to hear stories of excuses and what-if stories of things that could’ve happened to them.
Lost dreams take up to much air space and mind room. There’s nothing to stop a productive imagination reproducing what it sees. Living the dreams that seem far away.
You just have to want it bad enough, to be bothered to try and grasp it with both hands.
Everyone loves a trier, even if you fail you tried. Tell the story of how you went for it, how you followed your heart. It’s an adventure if nothing else.
There’s no way to recreate the feelings of a light bulb moment when it hits. The excitement it projects.
Do it before it’s too late.
This speech is inside my head every day. My gut telling me I want more. And there’s only one way…