Its warmth apparent,
Those chill serotonin kicks
in the absence of close friends

I feel so lost
in my empty city
on a Monday night
as cool summer airs touch my brow, anxious habit
leaves my skin, and though I am not whole
I have found it again. I pass through
my old university campus
into millennium park, I listen
to Lake Control and feel this city
run though me, tethered memories
and fragments of my being, scattered
across a world I live in, and these words
I've given are all that remain of my moments,
Time spent about this town, which I share now.
I wanted nothing more
than to escape
into this

My heart is elsewhere, imprescient
as this moment slips by;
I no longer feel the thing.
I hear lonely memories of a new past.
Infinity, Crystalised;
I cannot say why you reached to me
in this ancient future.
My head is worn with anachronism
but I sleep to empty it
and search my dreams
for that profound sense of wonder

Once again, consider taking leave of the earth
albeit with no true intention of going anywhere,
Not a notion aside from wishful hopes, aspiration
for a life
where I can consume drugs, date whomever I want
and deal with falling apart

The rain is so frail, beatific
moment, dim precipitate on my bare arms
and wondrous half-light washing across the city sky.

Do I trust myself with CNS depressants, or am I just deterred
by the thought of those more eclectic GABA aftereffects.

What does it mean to wander one's city,
Following paths that appears rewarding?
Where appearance is the very fabric
of our own reward pathways.
With no destiny
what determines aimless wandering?
What does my inclination collapse into the world,
What is it that our will envelopes? Our many drives
are bundled into what appears; we are carried
along a path, arbitrary or otherwise,
Only for one drive's will to be usurped
by the sweet vista, or strange nostalgia
which spoke to the whims of another.
Is there a collective unconscious, are there connections
which whisper unto our subordinates?
Something as simple as intuition or god;
Gut feeling, divine touch. Either being immanent enough
to qualify one's environment by.

The way I live, to be forgotten, but I'm still here
living all my low effort heroes.

Sometimes I get low but it's alright,
I have my heroes.

It's OK to let go. Release,
Regrow/move,

Replant your soul;