I want to craft something unique and timeless.
Unfortunately the words do not present themselves organically.
So I look to my wandering thoughts for a sense of purpose;
to discover a catalyst and explode in a burst of creativity.

With fizzles echoing from the hollowness within me;
the empty space where hobbies and passions live.
Sought time and again, to give meaning and purpose to a life as a cog in society's machine.
Perhaps I am wasting the very time I am trying to enrich seeking a dream.

When it comes to finite resources, our concept of time is fickle and dubious.
As it often will, perception steps to the top of the hierarchy of attention.
Time management is a killer sound byte, though an illusive skill, and not often thought of outside of the office.  
Grasping at the moment I cannot help but find myself wondering through the fog of the future.

I fear sitting back when I am older and looking upon a life not lived.
That the time needed to discover what I want will slip through my fingers, and the void will remain indefinitely.
Dreams are hard to fathom in a shroud of controlling darkness beyond your control.
The ever looming need to survive suffocates every orifice without mercy.

The rock and hard place of playing victim and being one by consequence of existing may as well go by “my humble abode.”
Pressure mounts with each tick, and tok - still I throw words at the page.
Waiting for the catharsis to cast itself out of my chest, violently;
for the words to fall into place like sand counting seconds encased in glass.

I am somewhat of a ticking time bomb.
I can feel the internal pressure increasing daily.
Reminding me time and energy are finite,
and that bitterness lingers like a bad smell.

Having little practice managing anger
it slips away from me like sand through my fingers.
Sand gets everywhere, leaving nasty texture only I can sense.
The dominos are falling; an unstoppable force.

The fire has been lit in me to discover authenticity.
Inherently, growing aware of every violation against my core values.
The sand allowed for lines to be drawn,
and I am not crossing them; an immovable object.

Static, stuck, still, yet not stable or sustainable.
Understanding that life comes with sacrifices,
I will no longer give away so easily.
Assimilation is removed from my vocabulary.

Hello all!

I am in the process of creating my own blog/ poetry website. I will still be posting here for a while as I continue development on the site. But feel free to come check it out in it's most basic form!

Updates to come in the coming weeks.

https://spacepuppybarks.com/


Thanks all.
-Alaina

I am running in sand.

I am drying off in the river.

I am free in chains.

I am lost surrounded by directions.

I dance around these moving goal posts
With poise and grace

While it eats away at my mental health
And my stability with it.

Hope you enjoy the lie.

Sometimes the path forward is obvious
But is hard to swallow
So we choose to choke on ignorance
Until one day we remind ourselves we know the right path
All we must do is choose to walk forward.

In an instant
My words overflowed
From their mouth
Taken out of context
Without conscious consideration
Without control of emotion

Perspectives are locked in
And I am the root source
Of all of this tension
Simply because I was seeking release
Of tension - ironic

In an instant
The door was closed
And I, locked inside
I can't ignore this
I can't change it
So I am left with rehashes
And fake smiles.

I am fake smiles personified
In a hollow existence
With goal posts, always moving
I am in a head spin
Trying to figure out
Where the **** to aim