Tag: Poetry

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Behavioral Cognition

              She looked on with a nervous anticipation, an anxious expectation of what was to come. She’d done this before, and she could do it again.

              Feet to the floor, that’s all she had to do.

              Feet to the floor, without the spinning of her room and the tunnel vision of her view.

              Sitting up was the first step. The first step was successful.

              Now she found herself looking on at what she could see – she couldn’t make it out: something, anything, or everything.

              Every thought came swirling in her head, chaining her down impossibly to her bed.

              The made-up path of existential dread – she couldn’t reconcile how it was all made up in her head.

              Just like the thoughts of negativity when positivity is felt; never letting herself feel joy even when the good cards are dealt.

              Toes to the carpet, that’s all she has to do.

              Toes on the tile, that’s nothing new.

              Yet she winds up in this struggle every morning, she winds up on this path that is her own doing, her brain, her mind’s own doing.

              She wants to be be free, she needs to let go, and she doesn’t know she has the power to do so. To imagine herself – and the feelings that come with – embraced by the sun and the coolness of a breeze in the warmth of the heat, an unforced smile brought forth uncontrollably, a high rushing through her body completely naturally, a sensation of happiness and joy, positivity in the stream flowing through her thoughts and the non-existence of the word negativity.

              She’s sitting upright.

              She puts her arms over her head to stretch.

              She’s sitting upright.

              She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath.

              She can do it again today. She can find meaning in the day. The day has purpose. There is a reason to get up. There is a reason to do it today, just like there was a reason to do it yesterday, and like there will hopefully be a reason to do it tomorrow.

              Her legs slide from the side of the mattress, the softness of her skin passing past the satin. Feet to the floor, she’s done it again.

              No longer does the room spin, and her line of sight has widened.

              She might not be ready for the rest of her life, but she’s ready today, and she’s ready for it to begin.

              She’s ready for today.

              ready for today to begin

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I’ve got that summertime

I’ve got that summertime sadness in that I feel like I’m falling apart right now.

I’ve got that summertime sadness in that I am falling apart right now – there is no feel like, unless, of course, it’s all in my head.

There’s a good chance it’s all in my head.

The sky outside is on fire, and my mind inside is on fire. I think there’s a metaphor somewhere in here. I think, I think, I think.

Maybe that’s the solution.

Maybe that’s why I just bought and consumed a four shot bottle of Jack within ten minutes. Can’t have more than that in the apartment. Oh no no, no sir, no way, no how.

Have to forget. Have to be able to stop thinking. Have to stop it.

Am I am an alcoholic, and if I’m losing weight from eating better and working out more, why do I still have this beer belly? Oh, that’s why.

Better drink about it.

So that I don’t think about it.

And so now all of my writings have become ramblings I guess, huh.

Hemingway was a drunk, right?

To be clear, I don’t think I’m a drunk, nor do I believe drinking is the cause of my issues.

It’d be easy, if that was the case.

But it’s not. It’s not, it’s not, it’s not.

Oh my god, am I doing that annoying LinkedIn thing where every single new sentence is a new line?

I’ve earned myself a fifth shot.

To be clear, I know I’m not a drunk, and I don’t believe drinking is the cause of my issues: it’s more nefarious than that… I drink because I think because I want to control because I feel out of control because the things in my mind and the thoughts in my head never correlate to the person I am or reconcile with the person I wish I was and I get so obsessed with this overconolulted complex of OCD making plans even though I’m not OCD that’s not who I am and I’m struggling can’t you see but I don’t care enough to make anyone see, the “you” wasn’t directly meant at someone, not you or me, or maybe, I guess, you know, partially potentially me.

I’m 32, single, and definitely questioning.

Why I am single? Why am I here? How’d I get here? Do I like other things? No, I really don’t think so, but why else am I single? Why else am I here? Well –

I said “I don’t really don’t think so,” but again, that’s the issue: thinking.

Sixth shot.

“Why else am I single?” I’m not sure, all I know is I hate myself and I’m now too scared to talk to girls after being the “doesn’t call – or text back (let’s be real here, who calls anymore, nowadays)” douche in college, and so I no longer like to approach or perhaps ruin or poach a good evening, writing this it sounds like I’m seething, but I’m not, I wonder though if I’m believing.

Again, perhaps there’s things I’m not admitting about myself or to myself.

Or perhaps there’s skeletons in my closet so much that I wish I was someone else.

Things I regret in the past and don’t believe were the real me.

But what if they were? That’s the one thing that has me seething.

And self-loathing with no coping because I don’t deserve any reserve or reprieve because is it just me I am going to deceive?

No one knows the past but ourselves and the others in it, and who knows how the other remembers it, and do I remember incorrectly?

I honestly don’t think it could have ever been me.

And maybe it wasn’t, maybe I’m just remembering incorrectly.

Because I never realized it until years later, and they never said anything.

At this point, to them, I’m never saying anything.

And then to conflate and confound the issue, is that completely ancillary?

Is it because I could be of a different orientation than I previously thought, and that’s why I no longer try to quote unquote talk to the orientation that I’ve always thought?

Or is it because I have one thing I haven’t been liking about me (well, a lot of things), and that one event in the past, that they’ve never brought up, but its effect still has its last.

Cause I think about it now, and about it I’m not proud.

There’s so many, many things about which I’m not proud.

The self-hating leads to the over-drinking.

And when I’m out – no pun intended – when I’m out there’s so much over-drinking.

Which leads to more self-hate.

How’d I get here in the first place?

I was a good person, so I thought.

Am I a good person still? So I hope I am. I’d like to think, but I don’t know if I am.

I do good things, but are those because I am reflecting?

And to return to earlier, is this simply tangentially?

Do I wish I was someone different altogether completely? If you know what I mean?

I don’t know.

I really don’t know.

If this is the world, then this is what it is.

I hope, I pray, no one feels as fucked up as I do, and this is why I say I’ll never had kids.

At least biologically.

If I’m not happy with myself, then it’s time my bloodline dies with me.

But I’d love to have kids honestly.

And know I’d be a great parent.

And would love to take a kid out of a situation that’s shitty.

So adopt, don’t shop, as I jokingly say.

Then again, sometimes I wonder if I’ll be around another day.

So then no, at least for now, plus I have the whole issue of finding a partner for now.

And reconciling within myself why I haven’t done so yet at the age of 32.

Perhaps my insecurities all along were right: I’m a loser, who knows?

Oh yeah, all the people who picked on me growing up.

Why do I care about what they did or said? Honestly, now I don’t give a fuck.

But I worry their words and actions made a lasting impact on me, subconsciously.

And these are the things I gloss over in therapy.

I want to be in a relationship, I want to have kids, I want to love and be loved.

But I have a hard time finding love for myself, and I have a hard time envisioning a future where love for me finds someone else.

To atone for the past, sure, I donate and volunteer and am generally a good person.

But I know I could have been a better person than I was, and I hate half of who I was who is half of who I am.

So until I can figure that out and figure out what it takes to be a man (pun intended, fuck societal norms).

I’m just so lost.

And every summer as an adult it’s arisen.

As a kid, you look forward to the summer break, minus the summer reading, where you can spend so much time with your friends playing outside, playing inside, and even by yourself doing nothing.

As an adult, you feel the pressure to have the same fun and make the same plans and make the most out of it, even though you don’t have vacation, or you feel the melancholy of reflection now that you don’t have that time and now that you don’t feel fine during that one time in which you had the time.

Breathes out in exasperation.

The summertime sadness hits me so hard, it’s for real.

I thought for 2023 maybe this could be the one year I could steal.

Away from the sadness, but the sadness now has it.

The only way now I could steal is to not partake it.

But in order to do so, I’d have to stop partaking in all of it.

And that, I will not let myself do so, I will continue although I know “deep down” I want to quit BECAUSE deep down I don’t want to quit.

I’ll continue striving to be the person I’ve always wanted to be, always known I can be, every day.

The other pieces in life will settle as they come, in a way.

Because I know deep down, I am someone I can humbly be proud of, and make the world a better place.

I just need to remind myself to keep living, yesterday, today, and tomorrow, and every day.

And to improve on myself, no matter how big or small the improvement is each day.

And one day, as I try to make others happy, I’ll also understand how myself to be happy.

That way

That way’s away right now

But I can see it

No matter how far away

Every morning’s a struggle

Every evening’s a battle to convince to try another day

But I can see it

No matter how far away


At least that’s what I say… what I say today… who knows what I’ll say tomorrow… if I am around tomorrow.
…and after I quoted Lana, I’ll quote A Fire Inside, and say “Sing the Sorrow”

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Somewhat

…and it’s a microcosm that I don’t like what I’m doing and don’t know what I want to do and I’m scared for the future and regretful of the past.

But sometimes things work out. Sometimes it all works out. All the frustrations building up to it, if you stick with it, sometimes it works out. If you’re patient. If you’re positive. You won’t always be patient, and you won’t always positive. But on the average. Balance. Moderation. Balance moderation.

Sometimes you get what you wanted and realize it wasn’t what you needed.

Sometimes the converse.

Sometimes neither, but what’s worse?

Sometimes it turns out the chase was worth more.

Someone’s staring at me – or am I staring at them?

I don’t mean in the mirror, I mean in this coffee shop I find myself in.

Reflecting, reflecting, reflecting and then –

Listening to the conversations all around

It’s the same one I found myself in when I wrote my last post and a few times between then

I retreat to a similar, familiar topic when I have writer’s block I suppose

Easy to flock to, this type of prose

…and I guess it’s because things are going right at the moment, that I don’t know what exactly to write about. I somewhat do like what I’m doing and I somewhat do know what I want and I’m somewhat hopeful for the future and accepting of the past.

Sometimes somewhat is enough. Sometimes it somewhat works out. And sometimes that’s enough.

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Ticking away the moments that make up a dull day

You’re 31, and this is your life, passing before your eyes
I guess it’s better than flashing before your eyes
You’re 31, the days are quicker, and you haven’t accomplished anything you wanted to accomplish by now
It’s not trending well
You’re 31, the years are shorter, and you’re not even sure what you wanted to accomplish by this age
So pass the bottle on back down to hell
Time will tell
It’s easier to forget time
When you find yourself at the bottom of a well
It’s not trending
It’s not trending well

You’re 31, and they don’t make songs about your age anymore
What used to be fun now seems like a chore
It used to be easier to run when you couldn’t face the fate

You find yourself believing it’s easier to stay nowadays, to drink and not think
You lost yourself
On your way to hell

But how can you be on your way when you’re already in it
And then you find yourself again but at the bottom of the well
You’ve forgotten who you are
But will time tell?

By waiting here, doing nothing, expecting you to find yourself
The only thing time will tell is that by living like this, you’ll never find yourself
Although can you ever really know whether you ever really knew yourself?

Time to get help
Help will tell
Time will tell
But right now it’s not trending well
Wrong now it’s not trending well
Maybe one day I can say, “Wrong now that it’s not trending well” because it is in fact trending well
Who am I kidding, though – myself?

If I know what I need to do, but I can’t do it
For whatever reason
If I know what I need to do, but I won’t do it
For whatever reason
Then for X amount more years I’ll just watch four seasons
Pass before my eyes
And one day when it all comes to pass one last time
A life full of nothing, unfulfilled will flash before my eyes
And that one last time, it will tell:
You practiced on earth so well to get yourself ready for hell

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The girl with brown hair

Her brown hair flowing
Glowing and growing closer to the side of my face
My cheek
Makes me weak
When I’m this close
But I’ll gain strength
To stay in her good grace
To stay within this space
With her hair pressing into my face
Her neck pressed up against my lips
Her smell, I can taste forever upon my kiss
Her lips
Her kiss
All innocence
And no ignorance
Nothing but good intentions and playfulness bliss
A wish
To remain forever just like this
To remember forever this soft skin and those full lips
To not just remember but to fully and always reenact this kiss
Oh, what I wouldn’t give
I’d gain strength to make mends if ever broken
Go through lengths to prove actions upon words spoken
Heartfelt words for the one who deserves them
Not me, I don’t deserve them, and I don’t deserve you
Is what I would’ve said until the day that I met you
But with you, I feel deserving, that’s what you do
And now this is what I’ll say until the day I can no longer talk, speak, or breathe
If I prayed, then I’d pray
To have you here sitting with me
And me sitting with you
Or standing, lying, and lay
Until the last of ours or til the end of days
The best possible outcome
Not to be with someone
But to be with the one
Who makes me weak in the stomach when her hair falls against my face
But makes me strong in the heart when her hand feels across my face
And her breath brushes against my cheek
And her heart beats against my chest
Yes, the best possible outcome
Is to be with this one
Whose lips I will always miss once I find them
A kiss to miss upon lips with bliss
A kiss with bliss upon lips to miss
If she’s here now, I’ve found them
Give me a kiss
So exquisite
Her mind is the only place I’d ever visit
Quietly comfortable in her embrace
In the embrace of her brown hair strewn across my face
There really is no better place
Than right here, right now
With our lips barely touching
Both quiet and tired but fully loving
And comfortably silent without pressure for any words to be said
It’s you, it’s me, hands and hair caressing each other’s head
And face, I’ll never forget the look on your face
When I said I wish we could stay like this day forever
And you said this day could not stay but we have plenty more ahead
And I pursed my lips to give you kisses upon your lips, your cheek, and your head
Because if this is all there is
If this is all life is
I lived the best one I swear
Because I fell in love with the girl with brown hair

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Ocean noises to fall asleep to while on melatonin unable to sleep and begging just to be able to weep like the waves of the water that seeps

Everything coming at me at once

Once at me at coming everything

Every feeling, every emotion, every dream

Dream every, emotion every, feeling every

Every sound

Sound every

Every sight

Sight every

Every look

Look every

Every every very fight

Fight every every every

Every every every night

Night every every every

Everything coming at me at once

Once at me at coming everything

Every feeling, every emotion, every dream

Dream every, emotion every, feeling every

Every melody

Melody every

Every harmony

Harmony every

Soft keys

Keys soft

Playing in my head tonight

Playing in my head tonight

Soft sands

Sands soft

Soft shores

Shores soft

Soft keys

Keys soft

Playing in my head tonight

Playing in my head tonight

All I dream is the same dream

All I dream is the same dream

Under the seam is a dream is a dream

Under the seam is a dream is a dream

Simulation is what I mean

Mean I what is simulation

Taking seriously nothing

Nothing seriously taking

Can’t take seriously anything

Anything seriously take can’t

If you can’t take seriously everything

Everything seriously take can’t you if

Finding the needle in the haystack

Haystack the in needle the finding

When looking way back

Back way looking when

Through this free verse hack

Hack verse free this through

Letting all the slack

Slack the all letting

Seep into my life

Life my into seep

Seep into my seams

Seams my into seep

Tonight

Tonight

I’ll fight

Fight I’ll

The night

Night the

Goodnight

Goodnight

To the bright

Bright the to

Night

Night

Goodbye

Goodbye

To the

The to

To the

The to

Bye

Bye

Winter to spring to summer to fall overnight

Overnight fall to summer to spring to winter

SAD is the one thing I can only ever get right

Right get ever only can I thing one the is SAD

Get right

Right get

SAD is the only thing I can really feel tonight

Tonight feel really can I thing only the is SAD

To night

Night to

From me

Me from

Seeping into my life

Life my into seeping

Seeped into my seams

Seams my into seeped

Baba O’Riley build-up it seems

Seems it build-up Baba O’Riley

Her fingertips touch the inseams

Inseams the touch fingertips her

Just let me drown down and forget about it

It about forget and down drown me let just

Just let me escape reality even if just for a little bit

Bit little a for just if even reality escape me let just

These are my

My are these

Are my

My are

Suicidal lyrics?

Lyrics suicidal?

Would be gone if it wasn’t for them

Them for wasn’t it if gone be would

Either metaphysically or out of the country

Country the of out or metaphysically either

Actually

What?

I’m already gone metaphysically

Metaphysically gone already I’m

And out of this poetry

Poetry this of out and

All I dream is the same dream

When I can dream

When I can dream

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Black Tint Shades

04-18-2021

Black tint shades
Autopilot
At dinner with my parents
No emotion
5-HTP
Serotonin
Ted Talks on depression
Writing this while driving
But I’m not stressin’
Guess I should’ve learned my lesson
Go against who I think I should be
No man, no myth, no legend
In conflict with who I see
What others see
I can’t be objective
Am I good
Am I bad
Do others think I’m good
Do others think I’m sad
See me for who I really am
One day I hate me
And one day I love me
Just like one day the sun’s out
And the next day it’s dark out
Can I just blackout
And slow down
Slow down on the self-pity
And the lifestyle that makes me forget me
Who I think I should be
Even though I don’t know me
Is who I think I should be right
Probably
Probably should be better than who I am today
But it’s just easier this way
To never change
Talking about how everyone is just trying in life so you can’t really judge
But I don’t think I’m trying anymore
So does that make me free to judge myself?
Maybe I’m not free
Maybe I’m too free
But I do know I am naive
To think things would be different this time
When I did nothing to change
And I never did try
That the clouds wouldn’t come back around
That the sun wouldn’t set below the horizon seemingly permanently underground
Back to ground zero
Maybe two steps back
Definitely something about the definition of insanity
In conflict
Without reconciliation
This ride’s almost come to an end
Roads I know so familiar
I’m not looking when I’m speedin’
Cruise control at 5:40pm
The app shows the sun is out for two more hours but I don’t see it
‘Cause of the black tint shades
That I find myself once again wearing
Even though I see my eyes in the rear view mirror
Sight clear
Vision clearer
Breath smells of death and one too many beers
Kid Cudi singin’
Hands on the wheel
Doin’ my thing
I’m so tired of doing my thing and only thinking of me
I’m so tired of thinking
So I’m committed to the drinking
The good times they are just killing me
Modest Mouse playing
I’m always just playing
Just saying I’m going to change
When the only sense of semblance of being off balance is changing lanes
Drifting through life
Not swerving
Lack of construction on these roads keeps me from learning
And being comfortable with my life keeps me from yearning
Although, to repeat
To belabor the point to the point of defeat
I don’t like who I am
I don’t think I am a good person
I’m a fake, even writing this
Not naive, like I said above
Trading clouds for clout
Manipulative and selfish
Writing this solely for me
With the intent of what will the audience think about me
I just wish someone was directing this traffic
On the road
In my mind
I can’t see how to get there
Is there a blind spot on my side
There’s somewhere I want to be
And although all these roads look familiar to me
I don’t know where I’m going
But I’m searching for something
I’m searching for
I’m searching for nothing
If I keep up this charade of a facade
Have I used that line before
I’m so full of lines
Escapism in its finest form comes in the finest lines
If it’s not good, I still welcome it inside
I know it’s not good, but I still welcome it inside
I can see what’s behind me
But I don’t know what’s ahead
Just the words right now that are flowing through my head
It looks like flashing lights but I can’t be for sure
With my damn black tint shades
That I put on myself
I pretend that I’m more enlightened now
But I’m more blind than I was before
Lie to myself and try to lie to others
Does anyone see through the charade of a facade
Now I’ve definitely reused that rhyme
And built this shitty poetry on self-pity and wasted your time
But what do I care if I only care about mine
I just want to take off these goddam shades
But what incentive do I have to change
No motivation
No dedication
No one to tell me no
Except my own happiness
That is in conflict with my own ego
Never to reconcile
But I know it’s time to let go
No commitment though
Self-will and will power at an all time low
Circles to another layer below
I’ve lost sense of what I’m writing
Just like the life that I’m living
What for I am striving
This car while I’m driving
Nothing for I am striving
It’s apathy when you don’t care to be trying
To better yourself
To better myself*
It’s a race till I’m dying
Yet then when I feel sick
I feel like crying
Is this just a rehash of the themes from my old writings
Just like my new days are a rehash of my old
The story’s already been told
There’s nothing left to unfold
Motives and motif
One doesn’t exist
And the other’s getting old

There’s an eternity to not e___t
So there’s no reason not to continue trying to live to get old

10-10-2020

Where can I find the inspiration when I don’t have the motivation and don’t feel the need or even the want for dedication
Apathy and no place to be since I don’t even know of a place to go, what to do with my life, what journey, what path, what road
There’s no map and no manual
No instructions on how to fill my soul
When I’m feeling lonely and oh so alone
I’m always feeling lonely and oh so alone
Even when packed with people in a crowd with friends or with a crowd on a phone
I’m always feeling lonely and oh so alone
Right now I can’t even be with a crowd in person
And I don’t know how to be on my own
Even though I’m on my own all the time
The irony is not lost on me
Everyone cares for everyone in person until they don’t
When push comes to shove and you get pushed and shoved
Your feelings, your happiness, your wants and your won’ts
I don’t even know how to handle this
A reaction to the non-scandalous
The monotony
The mundanity
Knowing there is no deity
Knowing there is no purpose
I don’t even know how to handle this
These little things that come in life and boil up into bigger things
Water overflowing
Off the edges
Like a waterfall
Off the side
Into the heat
Off my feet
As I fall
And I go
To heaven above or hell down below
If either existed
Maybe we’re there right now
I feel like we’re there right now
Heaven today
Hell tomorrow
Heaven this hour
Hell the next
Why is my mind like this
Like that
Send a text
Exit
And I’m out
Out of this relationship
That started with so much promise
Now it’s time to quit
Like life
Now it’s time to quit
Drop me into the pit
What a shit rhyme
But I’m so sick of it
There’s no main purpose or point to any of it
To any of this
So maybe I’ll keep writing till I can slice and dice and fake some shit out of it
Nice, I’m nice
I promise, I swear I’m nice
Or not
I lied once, then twice, and thrice
Fuck your feelings
And fuck your life
Is what I say in the mirror
Looking at a face
Maybe mine
If I can’t recognize myself
In due time
It will all be over
Falling off this line
Falling out of line
Happiness encapsulated in a line
That I uncapped
And inhaled this time
Just trying to find relief
For my mind
But the next day I wake up
And it’s gone with my
And it’s gone with my
It’s gone with my
What’s the next line?
What’s the next move
I cleared out that text
Can’t respond yet
Have no future that I care about
The present’s not done yet
Regrets in the past
When someone says live life with no regrets
I say fuck your namaste bullshit motto fake ass fake fuck shit
This is not what you get
Living life with no regrets is not what you get
But I get it
It’s some shit you tell yourself to make yourself feel better about how much you hate yourself and how much you regret
Sure, this is self-loathing and maybe on the verge of self-pity
But fuck what you have to say
I say, looking in the mirror when I wake up every day
I’d say in the morning, but sometimes it takes more time than that to get out of bed
To find the inspiration and motivation and dedication to live life and not want to be dead
Some call it existential dread
I don’t put labels, I just say sometimes I want to be dead
So if I can keep typing and writing
Maybe that will help
From 2:13 to 2:27 I’ve gotten 632 in
Now what if I edit
And what if I can’t speak
These words to life
I doubt it
If I can’t speak my own will to life
Why even try
If I can’t speak my own will to life
Then I will die
So I guess I have to try
But why, God, why
So here I go
Or some bullshit
Some other self-help saying that does nothing but make the self-help author make money
Fuckin phonies
But I can’t look or judge
When I myself am a fuckin phony
Not for writing this
But for looking and judging just to begin
But for lots of other reasons
Too
To be sure
To be certain
And that’s just it
And that’s just it
And that’s just it
This life has no reason
And here I am, sitting, writing, breathing
Don’t know what to do next
Other than these bullshit ways I find to keep myself busy
Preoccupied with some shit I have to do next that really doesn’t matter
We have to make meaning in our own lives, I guess
Cause everything really doesn’t matter
And I guess that’s the issue when you live your life like nothing matters
But it’s hard to find something that does
Maybe a person, place, or thing
Fuck nouns, but maybe a person, place, or thing
Is enough to keep on living
I have some nouns in my life, but still
You forget about them
And then it doesn’t make sense to keep on living
I’ll keep on going because it feels good
Writing, not living
But I want to stop and get onto that next busy
A quote unquote good type of busy
Whatever the fuck that means
Almost at a thousand
I want to go back to my dreams
To sleep, when I don’t have to think
Eternal would be great
I don’t want to die
But I want to go to sleep
Eternal
Forever
That would be great
Eternal
Forever
Wake me when it’s time to celebrate

Wake me when it’s not too late
Always punctutional
Always on time
Always balancing some will against fate

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Cast the Anchor

Miles from shore
Floating, drifting, not actively swimming
Hoping for more
Stopping, stalling, dramatically crawling

Past and future
Wanting no more

Miles from shore
Sinking, drowning, caught passively grounding
Hoping for more
Wishing, waiting, erratically pacing

Present unsure
Needing no more

Endless water
Floating, drifting, not actively swimming
Endless water
Not sinking
Not drowning
Not caught passively living
Endless water
Floating, drifting, not actively swimming
But not sinking
And not drowning
Not caught passively living but actively at peace and contently –
Floating
Drifting
Endlessly at sea
I could’ve never asked for more
This life for me
I never could’ve asked for more

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Forever Fallacies

70 degrees
A warm sun, sweat drip down from brows, is all they see
Relentlessly
Digging holes to construct a brand-new whole city
Inadequacies
Man-made issues, solved with man-made machinery
Fictitiously
Envisioning visions where they’re truthfully free
But they’re hollow
They’re never free

70s disease
War-torn victors lie alongside those born to flee
Aggressively
Completing useless competing activities
Retail industries
Fulfillment by buying everything to be
Deceivingly
The void growing larger than looming tall trees
But they’re hollow
They’re never free
They’ll never be free

70th Street
A place to find a home and call one’s life complete
Whatever to please
Tangible or intangible, material feats
Never to cease
Thinking these efforts are immaterial defeats
These efforts are failures to the Nth degree
Relentlessly
Deceivingly
Feelings of greatness combat feelings so empty
But they’re hollow
They’re never free
They’ll never be free
They’ll never be set free

Trapped
With possessions and experiences
Which one will make me complete?
How I could never see
I would never be free
I will never be free
And with my unchanged attitude, outlook, and behavior
I am undeserving
Of anything past
Merely fleeting

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Full stop.

You’re worthless.
You’ll never amount to anything.
You’re worth nothing.
You’ve heard these words before.
Like a movie.
Like a train.
Spoken, said, coming.
Full speed.
But constant.
Whispering.
Quiet, as one; but loud, as a thousand voices at once.
You’ll never have everything.
It won’t be good enough.
You won’t be good enough.
You won’t be.
You won’t be.
You won’t be.
You reading this.
You – writing this.
You know self-pity gets you nowhere.
At least if you’re self-aggrandizing, you’re getting somewhere.
But look at you, you’re getting nowhere.
Say it one more time if you couldn’t hear it over the other shouted doubts.
You’re going nowhere.
But that’s everywhere you’ve been.
All you’ve known.
Helping verbs, like the help you’ve never gotten – from yourself.
You just can’t help yourself but to self-pity.
Pathetic.
A true pity, honestly.
Full stop.
What was that?
That noise.
Yes, that noise. You hear it.
Do it.
Yes, that.
Do it.
Scared of the cold or scared of the pain?
Can’t be scared of the regret when it’s all said and done, set.
Won’t be able to remember or forget.
Won’t be able to —

He gazed off in the distance, but the black backdrop hindered the extent of his vision. It was a pretty night outside, he had to admit, to himself. It was colder than usual – all the talk of the Earth getting warmer, but it was colder than usual. He enjoyed it for a change. After getting lost in his mind for an undisclosed while, he again gazed off in the distance. The waning moon was lit enough to illuminate the night; still, it wasn’t enough to make his mood bright. He looked down and thought about the fall. The seconds would last forever, and the peace found while weightless would be immeasurable. With the stars in the background, it’d be pretty. But if it didn’t end there, it’d be painful and cold. He’d be there, painful and cold.

Full stop.
What was that?
That noise.
Yes, that noise.
You hear it.
Clear skies, blue waves, reminiscent.
You missed it, but now you can hear it.
How could you forget it?
Either it’s over and you can’t feel.
Or you made it and all you can feel –
Pure bliss.
Happiness.
How could you forget?

The warmth from the sun embraced him. He didn’t mind the heat; the heat didn’t spite him like a stranger. The breeze from the sea enticed him. He didn’t feel the need; the need to be more than a stranger – to explain, or articulate, how he felt, at this time, what he felt, or who he was, to anyone, anyone except himself, yet especially himself. It didn’t matter. The wind was to his back, the sun upon his face, and the present flowed before him, like the river at his feet, upwards and then eventually downwards, ceaselessly. There was a concept of wind, and the concept of the sun, but he only knew them in this moment, temporarily flirting with eternally… It was a clear day. He saw a clear stream. The moment would encompass forever. He smiled.

Full stop.