I think I may get it

Why we remember our favorite memories
In vivid shades of colors we dream

How someone may think of the great green grass the day they met love

The ruby red lipstick of their mother who was sent above

The soft silver hues of a rainy day when they were young

A overbearing blue from a stained glass window depicting a guardian that, once, they were sure of

Even if I dont, i'd still like to understand.

The way the heat of a raging orange sun feels to someone else

How this black shadow would cast on someone else

What my dirt brown eyes convey to someone else

Does this bleeding pink heart feel for someone else?

Florescent light in the early morning.
The sun comes up when the rain stops pouring.
Ticking, brooding clock in my head.
I wrap produce on plastic beds.

Plastic earbuds bring me joy
By vibrating air through the void.
"Fake Plastic Trees" by Radiohead.
I'm reminded and filled with dread.

A podcast speaks on microplastics.
Oceans filled and consequences drastic.
Bothered by the nine to five.
These vibrations keep me alive.

My Heaven is small and quaint;
A little dingy and filled with faceless saints.
It's a small bookstore with disorganized shelves,
Plenty of material to feed me well.

Comics, games, records, art,
A million things to start.
I'd sight-see amongst my creature comforts,
And read on near death experience.

Near Death: A Look Into The Minds Of The Brave, Page 152.
"It is often reported, that people who experience a near death feel only the nothing around them as they slip out of conciousness."

Even the anxieties will be there,
For without them I'd find no joy in being in small, dingy, quaint bookstores.

It's been a while since seventeen;
Six years since house gigs and cut teeth.
Put my mouth to the grindstone,
Because I still don't know anything.

I have a recurring vision of me underwater
Completely conscious and viewing the great beam of light trickling in from above me
It happens when my thoughts become too much
When the wave breaks and takes me under, I suppose
"Let my mind run underneath warm jets"
I sit there with my eyes wide open and think of nothing
At least thats how it feels
In reality I'm thinking of everything still
And right when I want to close my eyes and stay under
With the predators of the sea and my heart bleeding
I realize I need to breathe and swim back up

Hello,
I'm dreaming of stars.
Of love, of money, and fantastic cars.
Of artistic creation, the fame, and success.
Of hope, of longing, and beautiful ***.

I'm scared of the future and staying up late.
I've wrapped it all up just to dream it away.
I feel terribly bad but I cant stop the bleeding,
My dream-clotted heart just might keep beating.

But its keeping me down 'cause I'm failing, you see.
I think it might be such an awful disease.
I think I'll combust of this crippling confusion.
I think I might lust for some perfect delusion.

...

I think this has gone on for too long.
I can't find a job 'cause I long for a song.
I can't stop feeling nostalgic, although.
I dream of a house, of my little home.

Just enough to keep on moving forward.
Just enough to live 'til I'm older,
Without too much trouble and enough for my kids.
I dream that maybe I'll finally get rid,
Of the dreaming that's been holding me back for so long,
The one that's made it so terribly hard.

My discipline is weaning; I should get up and do my chores.
This mess is brooding deeper and hiding all the floors.
The dishes smell like ****; the trash is overflowing.
Why, O why, do I stumble by and let this charade keep growing?

My vision has been blurring from pure domestic purging.
Unhealthy mechanisms have given to isomniac flurry.
A blue screen has been screeching; blue rays keep me awake.
I'm sick of turning over just to see that I'm a fake.

I should make more time
Time is God's only regret
It's stolen away

My pendulum is swinging everyday
It is held down by the lyrics of bands from my teenage years
Why do words that shouldn't need apply to me any longer still hold their weight?

I thought I was done with the swinging motions of this back and forth mindset
Yet, here I am clutching at every word pounded through my speakers

My ears are ringing
My lips are bleeding
I am still the youth that I swore to escape
I am still on the pendulums rope, praying it will finally wear down and break from these heavy weighted words that clutch at my gut

Transfixed
A burning soul in the pale
A goal that howls
A voice saying don't fail

Intoxicated
By the flame inside
By my obsession
By my *desire

I weep for all the lives I won't live,
For all the loves I never had,
For the times I looked in your face and breath was put into my lungs,
For songs I never wrote,
For people that I promised to see soon,
For my childhood,
For the times I missed work,
For the times I didn't do my homework,
For the times I chose nothing over living,
For the seasons of depression.

Why does it feel like somethings missing?

All things so morose
So many people speak of woes
When we're deep in throes

*******;
I haven't seen you in a year.
Maybe more;
And I'm almost twenty four.
Seventeen;
I still fell seventeen.
Coffee pours;
It's running out the door.
Bittersweet;
The ground beneath my feet.
Never ends;
Time don't always mend.
Here I am;
Sitting like the ******.
Missing you;
My hearts empty room.

Bury me with my poetry,
When I am gone.
Bound it in leather and give it back to the earth.
Let a new green tree grow from my words and my curse.
My sharpened silver tongue will carve a river bed.
I will rain down bright blue color to keep it fed.

My energy, my true self;
I will recycle.