Being alone
Means pretence intimate to everyone,
No congregation
No groups,
Acknowledging all to their fronts
And backs.
Dont try to recruit me,
I shall nod in agreement
Smile to agree
Then I shall walk away,
And will not follow.
I will not fight for nothing
Other than blood.
My decision is final,
I will only rest on my own,
Woken loud to nerves in company
Flowing through the emotions
Until escapism takes hold.
I am only real and fluid,
As I take flight to seek isolation.
The mind is adept at its own pretence
When a foreseeable ending claws at its sense
Rapid spate of change is hard to allow
Crystal clear thoughts deviate from the brow
An uncontrolled destined moment in time
Perspectives of honesty bring up the divine
Amnesiac spaces previous and after
Brings the transition not nearer nor faster
Change sparks defence to raise fully clad
Denial, like a sane man humouring the mad
A rapid such ending wretches the soul
Pulls what we possess to never let go
Our sleepless gut instinct repulses the last
Repelling an echo of struggles near past
For even the efficient an ending feels strange
A limbo state not desiring to change
An unconscious unknown steadily beckons
Lifetime of intake, although its just seconds
Confusion is ripe though doesn’t persist
Without endings your presence wouldn’t exist
On ponder a moment which presents a choice
An alternate view to retain a lost voice
Reflect to proceed, an perceptive mind wins
Determine an ending, is where a new first begins.
As you sleep
I weep
Crying for tomorrow
Drenched in sorrow
As you dream
I scream.
As you wake
I shake
Pained Expression
Of depression
As you leave
I grieve.
As you try
I die
From humiliation
My situation
As you think
I shrink
As you move on
I’m gone
Left this place
To a dark space,
As you mourn
I lay reborn.
A nights sleep and the heart pumps bigger
Now what hits is the constant trigger
My skin is so wet, and my nerves are soaked
My soul is flat, and my will is choked
I feel there is light, I feel heat in my eyes
A brighter appearance brings up a good cry
I put down the bottle, throw down the cork
Open the door and skip as I walk
The outlook is clearer, different and real
Feels like the air, has shook off its chill
A smile breaks free, wide and thin
The combined warmth, comes from within
Another same day, from beginning to end
Half wearing the mask, half full of pretend
One extreme to the other, to which I seem bound
Desperately searching, for some middle ground.
The mind is adept at its own pretence
When a foreseeable ending claws at its sense
Rapid spate of change is hard to allow
Crystal clear thoughts, deviate from the brow
An uncontrolled destined moment in time
Perspectives of honesty bring up the divine
Amnesiac spaces previous and after
Brings the transition, not nearer nor faster
Change sparks defence to raise fully clad
Denial, like a sane man humouring the mad
A rapid such ending wretches the soul
Pulls what we possess to never let go
Our sleepless gut instinct, repulses the last
Repelling an echo of struggles near past
For even the efficient an ending feels strange
A limbo state not desiring to change
An unconscious, unknown steadily beckons
Lifetime of intake, although its just seconds
Confusion is ripe though doesn’t persist
Without endings your presence wouldn’t exist
On ponder a moment which presents a choice
An alternate view to retain a lost voice
Reflect to proceed, an perceptive mind wins
Determine an ending, is where a new first begins.
‘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.
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.
