iug

We're all alone filling the gaps of the silence.

but what's so bad about the silence?

we realize we've accomplished nothing but hopeful encounters

full of potentials and failures that shaped our lives with their reactions

to our pitiful attempts of desperation to create an appealing temptation

that would lure them into our lives so we could stop going to sleep alone

and dreaming alone because our worst fears started to show

that there's no such thing as anything and sand will never again be stone

as we look to our aged families we realize everything disintegrates

as they cling to their unrelenting routine and fading characteristics.

And what do we do when we realize that our whole life's been wasted?

cling to the knowledge that other people have illuminated

and further realize our minds have melted into a pot of a frenzy

where people buy and sell so they can feed their families

families they've created because they felt they had to

because someone might have mentioned that they should do

so we all have no time because we waste it on each other

as we convince them to buy the things we're selling so we can buy the things that they are

and we insist we play an instrument so we pick up a guitar

and pluck strings to make the hollow noises that the others do

and some realize this so they make a different noise

and then they buy your cd and copy the very same thing

so then again you're part of it, feeding into the monster of time consumption

so we've no time to feel alone, because the music talks about the things we do,

like a pat on the back that tells you someone else understands

because no one has any time, we're all too busy,

blocking out the inevitable silence we'll all fall into eventually.

lskdjf

I don't know if I'm doing right
I don't see how I'm not,
Yet there's so much emptiness beneath
the plotline life revolves.
I feel I've fastened myself to
a crowded conveyor belt line,
where every broken piece moans
about it's contiunal lack of time.
All the pices built the same
progress towards ends pit,
Amd once the end is known, the pieces recede,
into a state of passive panic.

If only they could realize, a piece is only a part.
The bigger picture expands far beyond what is seen or taught.
I've tried to come up with what it is, i'm meant to become a part of,
but all I see is people projecting what's considered normal:
Broken records playing out the repetitive stream of routine,
They all seem to get confused with how things are and how things seem
so seemingly obvious that everything is obviously completely fine,
as long as there is a coffee break,
and an uneventful nine-to-five.

kjjh

There are those that use their eyes to mirror their souls, and the latter to use it on occasion to seek the soul of the person who hast stirred their curiosity.

and what if i was to keep the use of mine as a medium of constant observation?

That no revelation could be had through the curiosity of others,

as i was always the searcher, and never the pool of thoughts that one could simply dip their hand in and retrieve the hearts murmurs.

I cannot think of one instance where someone has seen inside my heart.

If i were to leave it on my sleeve, vulnerable in the blackness of a pupil,

it would surely grow cold and wither in these mediocre conditions.

How can the average hearts that surround me, steadily beating within sleeves of frail cotton look into a heart buried so deep?

I can only presume that the love I feel should be kept within myself.

I love as if I loved with all my heart, a person in a last life which I never have to grieve.

A love so protected, no knife or daggered eyes could pluck it out.

These eyes have been on constant watch,

as if they were the everlasting ripple in the water of a hidden well,

and my heart, hidden at the bottom, could not be seen under such furious waters.

And if this water were to glass and mirror, and my heart be seen,

I think it should shatter to a million pieces.

asldkfj

You wear you're clothes a certain way, as if it makes you shine.
You're silence doesn't echo mystery, it just blotts out your pathetic mind.
All the quotes you like to say are stolen from a grave,
and the things you read to make you smart, dumb you every day.

You speak of things you've researched, stuff you're really interested in,
you debate your points in black and white as if you knew what you were actually saying.
You've conjured up an image, conventional to the norm,
as you spew your words out into the ears of the "lesser informed."

You've gotten to a point where you've been idolized yourself,
and you walk among grey analagies of people who live only to aquire your help.
You're a master in persuasion, and justified your pathetic views,
I've never hated anyone, until I met such a douche as you.

a song

I've been tryin' to wrack my mind to find a reason that could find out
why I sit here. why I, wait here, for a sign.
And I've waitin' in this place with this blank look upon my face
waiting to find you, maybe, know you, maybe.

and I'm
so dependent on my
expectations,
I keep lookin' out the window for a sign,
but I feel it in my bones, but they've been so wrong,
They've been lying to be all along.

and I'm
Scared that this trail is like a snails leading to a dying shell,
and the trail of slime I'm tailing has run dry.
and I'm afraid that nothings perfect and this imperfection kills me,
and I won't stop at nothing till I feel that floaty feeling,
and I never seem to feel it, so why should it be different I don't know

but I feel it in my bones, but they've been so, so wrong, they've been lying to me all along.

and now the reason once loud slips into a little whisper,
like a soft lullaby of the fears you'd never utter
but i utter over utter over and it gets louder,
the sound of my voice, a nail in the coffin
these sounds though soft they seep through wisdom; rationale soon becomes useless

but i feel it in my bones, i feel it in bones,

and i feel it in my bones, and yeah they're creaking and aging; yet I'll keep hoping for you,
and I'll wait in this place, creaking and aging
waiting until the pain of being in love with nothing gains a meaning,
then I'll know it's in my bones,
i'll know it's in my bones.

 

Love

My love for you is brimming,
and even if it were to fade,
it would fade like the sun burning.

Burning through galleons of gas,
as it keeps on going.
Shedding light on the universe,
as you light up mine.

And even if we were no longer together,
this love will never unequivocally cease.
For it is the lasting fuel for every hear beat.

This love will last until,
The fuel dims my universe to darkness,
like a snail trail leading to a dying shell.
And my heart has stopped beating,
as the love that burned is gone.

Mum

her past an intricate quilt of cotton and bunting.
Such delicacy woven into every fissure of every care placed,
a cool warmth to clear my mind.
Such passion placed in her daily life
always with weary eyes and unvarnished smile.
To evoke such inspiration from hard work.
A smile so genuine to set a bar for beauty.
inspired by the love of traditional simplicity.
A force of karma to work for the earners of it,
without earning herself the life she is yearning.