When I sift through writings
of the old, I meet sightings
unholy to behold, as nothing
the person I am now would make.
We are different renditions
of the same mistake.
That was two editions
before the last me,
I see,
as I recall how time
has passed me.

It's a training match, we rehearse,
reimburse our future selves
when we leave toilet paper
we don't need
on the shelves.

Tomorrow we will do it all again.
Brush your teeth,
wash your mouth.
Until that's the only thing you feel.

You're not thinking, you've stopped blinking.
I see you seethe when you are stopped
from brushing teeth.

I lack the basics, lack the practice,
lack that and I lack this. I even googled
how to rhyme and came out on crab cactus.

I feel void, for nill, as if I might be also lacking.

What is your excuse, the main
stated reason causing you to lose?
You know what you have to gain,
what you want to do
with your time.

Why don't you do it?

With only today at hand,
only one ship manned,
only 24 hours to grind
and no take-backs when you fall behind,
you know it's up to you
to pull yourself through.

Why don't you do it?

Are you sad? Are you under
pressure? Are you afraid of being bad,
scared of thunder and aggression?
Do you despise succesful others,
have no respect for proud mothers?
What's holding you back from where you need to be?

Why don't you do it?

It's too complicated, rough,
I was never hard or tough.
It's not amusing in the present,
I resent working like a peasant.

That is softcore cocky, didn't you
ever see the movie rocky,
with the guy running up the stairs?
Even if there's no one else in your life who cares,
there's you
and a lot of things to do.

Why don't you do it?

Is it habits? Make some new.
Is it sleep? Plan your cycle.
Is it the past? Let it be a drive.
Is it the future, are you insecure?
Then make it certain, strive
to make your own **** cure.

And whenever you are feeling you might crack,
locate the reason, what's holding you back.
If there's nothing valid in what you find,
it's time to stop acting like you're blind.

Do it.

Hey, how've you been, oh my,
I have to say, sorry I
couldn't make it,
I had problems with
myself last time.

Hope you're doing well,
as far as I can tell,
you're looking great,
I'll add, I, myself 've
done recovered from the perfect date.

My head tells me, don't dwell,
I'm just really sorry about the past,
my heart is sure as well,
I do not regret moving too fast.

On the evening before a small disastered
day, I lay awake in bed with nothing but
my closest dear and thoughts in head.

The filters spread across the room,
the smoke signalling impending doom.
I know nothing except elations, insecurities
and misplaced expectations.

Mismatched socks in chests with locks
and understanding you can't be too
demanding, can't let everything bother,
you, can't have one without the other.

I turn around and **** the time that ticks.
I can rest easy, assured I know the greatest tricks.

I do not understand my own sensations,
get hell-bent placing my frustrations
as I lay here, reminiscing,
drifting about, just a little bit,
as my thoughts leap
and I pretend to fight falling asleep.

I could spend hours trying
to decipher why I'm lying
to myself but as it seems
I'd rather keep myself engulfed in dreams,
haphazardly escaping the
reality.

Superficial understanding
can be very demanding
for the 'I'm still standing'
part inside me.
For I have yet to discover
how I went from I won't bother
to I have to smother
to yet again a ****** lover
of the art I suppose
to produce in prose.

My caring for sharing what's inside
has chosen now to hide
for at least a little while. You see,
my care used to but stopped being
free.

And I'm not sure about who I want to be.