Like a paraplegic dog,
on two feet he stood alone.
Like an innocent fog,
by the slightest breeze, he was blown.
Like a permanent infinity,
he became an endless query of himself.
Like an unholy trinity,
he fed on blessings with unclean delf.
Always clueless to the placement of the sun,
he could not discern his today from tomorrows.
The fatherless one, an only son,
he could count on none but his sorrows.
Lost in the tempo of his affinity,
he did not realize the passing hours.
Cursed with time's irregularity,
all things the clock devours.
Like a blind man missing hands to feel,
he pressed his cheeks against the ground.
The hot surface made him squeal.
His face was burned and browned.
It's unfortunate he was fearful of every sound,
the only things that truly worked were his ears.
Always hungry with no food around,
the only salt he tasted was his tears.
He walked in circles like rings around Saturn.
Though his mind wandered him to a different place,
His feet had memorized the pattern.
His past mistakes where all he could chase.
I'm lost. No I’m not, but I’m clueless and facing huge decisions. My heart is in one direction by common sense tells me another. Does money outweight artistic freedom? What defines happiness? Where am I going? Do I need to decide now?
I'm not looking for guidance, merely an ear. Life is staring at me man. I want to ask for help but I know I'm a hell of a lot better than that. I know I'm stronger than that. I know I'm older than that.
But I like to think back and reflect, it's cool man. Thinking of my childhood, when I was younger and it didn't matter. None of that sh*t mattered and that made life so easy. A job meant dressing up as a fireman and laughing- not a 9-5. What is a 9-5? Am I ready?
Time will tell.
I'm going away soon. Life matters. Life is hard.
I'm not depressed. I'm not dying. I have just been hit in the face by reality.
The best part is, I'm man enough to have a strong right hook to throw back.
Look out world, look out strangers, look out mystery, I'm here; and I'm excited.
am i afraid of god
or am i afraid of the people who worship him?
there is a difference between the holy
and the clueless
a difference between the clueless
and the spoiled who play with holy
religion is another matter
made up of einstein matter
i cry everytime i’m thinking of you. i let go of something that i am not sure i will ever get back. so now, i am (naturally) hitting the bottle (through and through) & i have no desire to stop. your habits and smile, your skin & the way it glistens. take me to a field and confess to me, the worst & the best. spark my interests & leave me clueless. i’m desperate and soft, if that’s what you’re still into. i cry out your name at least every other day. is that what you wished to hear? i want to rid myself of you. i want my sex drive back. i want to love someone other than you.
I believe in broken love and love lost,
Which may seem like two separate things;
However, they are in unison.
Love has grown to become so cliche and overplayed;
But in it's most pure form is spectacular and divine Until taken advantage of.
Love can come young,
but it is rarely understood, ever.
When love is misinterpreted,
There is chance for it to become broken.
Then, after the love breaks,
It leaks out until lost
In a deep ocean of emotions and thoughts.
Three years ago,
My first serious relationship had started.
I was completely clueless to what had started happening.
I knew I had felt different.
I began developing a sense of "we" instead of "me".
I had never been so happy, intrigued, or fascinated.
All this by another mortal human being.
After a few months,
I realized I had finally started experiencing what seemed to be true love;
And as time progressed,
I lost myself
For what I thought was the relationship itself.
I attempted to regain independence,
But one thing lead to another
And hate began overpowering the love and affection.
Though I never left,
I found another lover.
Well, I guess one could say another found me. Misconstruing love and lust,
I drifted into a world of sin and slickness.
My needs were finally being catered to
As I indulged in the best of both worlds.
I felt as if I finally deserved this.
I had been faithful for two years,
So shouldn't I get some free time?
After all, I stayed after they cheated.
They can do the same,
Especially since I won't keep this up for long.
I thought this was acceptable in my own eyes,
Yet I ignored the agonizing conviction that laid within my heart of being wrong.
One night, things had come to a climax
Between the new lover and I.
In the moment,
Boundaries of existence were broken.
However, afterwards I realized I had soiled the upmost precious thing I had ever possessed,
And that would be true love.
How could I have done this for pleasure?
Within a week, guilt had overtaken me.
I had to either come clean or leave.
I knew I would hurt her if I had told the truth
More than if I left.
I said that we were no longer meant to be
Because our love had been broken with fighting and deceit.
She cried for a week,
Begging me to come back.
I realized I had done something so horrid.
I could never take it back.
I left someone good for someone great.
So, why did I feel so bad?
Now, I am without either
Because of the guilt trip I went through.
I had broken a love.
And now, love was lost in the sea of emotions,
Sinking to the infinite depths of darkness
To never be found again.
I've been here for a few years now,
leaning back into the wall and waiting for my train.
Six years. I've waited six years
and not realized until just last year
that my train isn't coming.
It never will.
I remember the day we arrived.
Joyful. Hopeful. Eager for an adventure
and ready to leave this God-forsaken town.
June 10, 2007, we arrived: clueless.
The first person passed eight months later,
February 15, 2008.
She has slumped to the ground now. . .
nothing more than a pile of disintegrating bones.
August 12, 2008-- the second person died.
Now he, or what remains of him,
occupies the darkest, shadowed corner.
One by one, my fellow travelers passed
with no warning or sign.
Each body is in a different state of decomposition,
bearing an individual horror story
that will never be heard.
There is no one to hear it.
With each passing dawn,
I prepare myself for death;
as each day breaks,
I'm perpetually surprised that
my eyes open again.
The only thing left to do now is wait --
Wait for my impending death,
Wait to tell the stories of these surrounding skeletons,
And wait for a train that will never arrive.
“Go out get what we wants”
It works very well in theory and on paper.
Funny, cause last I checked
I ain’t sayin nothing that nobody knows already
Turned something tragic into something that will make you smile
the hammer will drop and your clueless mind will see
I hope you are ok.
I used to dream of ice cream, toy stores
roller coasters and Star Wars
It’s just dregs now, bitter
A nightmare, Twitter
I dream of my mother scolding
Being more than senseless, molding
My father at his cruelest
My little brother stolen
my arms not strong enough to hold him
Running, searching, groping
Falling into the ocean
Gasping, reaching for the rungs
Water filling my lungs
Sunk ships misery
A gunman in the classroom
A sudden crass boom
Glass flying through the air
People screaming, nothing there
My biggest mistakes are made
Not in the moments when I believe
I have nothing figured out
But in the moments
When I'm fooled into thinking
I have everything figured out
Innocence in her white gown saw the old die by stabbing by the new-
Each ounce of substance a distant nightmarish dream, yet the ground covered in a viscous red.
Every score lost meaning as notes began to fall off the pages.
But there was no hope.
The future would live another day with the invisible piano playing its song, even with her eyes closed.
Clueless was sound.
Diminuendo became silence.
All others became blind.
Nothingness turned into the future washing its hands casually, not showing the slightest bit of remorse; As if bloodshed became a new form of euphony, and conformity its justification.
We are no more.
Felicity, oh Felicity, how times have changed, where expression has shortened to accommodate the smaller days-
Where the soul became trapped in the flood.
My Felicity. My acrimony.
Words have begun to lose meaning.
Instruments do not use wind to envelop the insanity time has given you.
Dissipating sentimentality began to show on your dress- dropping tears- permanently staining.
The only thing time held dear was existence itself rather than the music inevitability once created.
Dear passion, my drive.
Can my ears deceive me no more?
I beg, I beg, I beg, beloved Felicity.
Listen to every drop and make music again, I say- make music from red ink.
Look down at your crimson reflection.
Oh, how beautiful color is and never was.
Paper lost its ability to hold notes and humans the ability to produce words.
Every score has drowned.
Please, lovely Felicity, allow the bath to assuage your spirits.
Only this once, I say.
Exacerbation is nonexistent in the bath of red that stained the white gown.
Smile, beautiful Felicity, for it has taken you too-
As if murder is what the future intended pleasantries to become.