Do I even want to participate in life anymore? I contemplate, not killing myself, but disappearing. I swear I could summon something to come into my life and just take over my soul. Ok, not really. . .I just have no clue what to write about anymore. And, man, I gotta tell ya, as a writer (and I know that’s a lot of commas), this is like the lowest of low. To write is my only job. It’s supposed to be my passion. And, to see that I’m too drugged out and not educated enough to have a steady flow of intelligent ideas to share with the world to make it better for the next generations, it just hurts my soul. But not really, cause I’m high. I can’t really tell or feel that I’m in pain until I’m off the drugs and out of money. My two highs. Drugs and money. What happened to the guy who wanted to achieve a happy and content life without those things as a necessity. . .? Where’d he go? The real Hippie Steve. You wanna claim to be this peaceful and cool guy who thinks logically and morally yet intelligently. Yet, you still fall into the same habits as those around you that you complain about on a daily basis. You are no better than the next guy. And, though you already know this, you do not act like it. It’s ridiculous just how neglectful you’ve been to your own health. Mental and physical. For what? For the high to keep going? What kind of a high is it? Tell yourself, tell me, what is it that you are working towards? What is it that you’re close to achieving? What is it that you are on track to finish? Besides a slow and ingratiating death, what else have you promised for yourself in this life? NOT A **** THING! And that needs to change! Stop talking about it. Take some writing courses online and do some writing exercises. Think outside the box. Create the app. Create a portfolio for freelance writing. Create your own ****!!! So you can work on your own and hire people and invest and all that fancy ****. Just go do it.

glass is really a mirror;
unending reminders that what we see is what we are.

that, which we see, is that, which we are
and, we are all the same life.

we are all but one existence.
we are all the same breath.

we're truly not that different.

tell yourself, and all shall listen;
we are together. we are one.

soft grass in a field,
golden sun in the air,
fair weather in the atmosphere,
no annoying bugs.

I am miserable.

I thought this field was able to support me,
and I thought that natural light was truly colorless,
and I didn't think that anything in life was really fair,
but, I still wanted all the bugs to be my friends. to shake it up a bit.

I curse the world for voting all at once.
the green grass, the golden sun, the blue sky,
the disappearance of foreign bodies. this world
already had a preconceived idea of what
a perfect world was like.

it's like I chose to be eccentric. like you all decided
differently from my decisions. making me the villain

but, this is my life.
and I cannot do what is wrong.
meaning, I am not capable of bending to your rules.
my senses do not react to this universal stimuli
in a universal way. I am an individual. I react
individually.

and, so, every part of this human being reacts individually
but, decides, as one, that each of those reactions
needs to be included in this body. that each part is worth working with
to make it all work. together. as one.

that's the way it should be. . .

"tread slowly. tread slowly.
'tis unholy to see freedom.

look around you. look around you.
see the world and all its bleeding.

say your prayers. say your prayers.
say your prayers with your eyes open.

don't lose focus. don't lose focus.
we are only what we notice."

bent over backward
to meet the requirements,
halo got caught in
afield, full of thorns.

was stranded, was folded,
with pressure,
was molded,
revealed and refocused,

a diamond of scorn.

perhaps, one day,
once we cease,
some of us
will become the stars

perhaps,
some of our vibrations
will carry over
into the afterlife
————————————————
a flawed determination
of iridescence

a dimming, purpose:
to accentuate


a life appears to be
worth losing
life appears to be
worth more


inspiring hopes
of replication

aspiring, hope
to just feel known

without a promise

chance
to follow

dimmed in anguish

storied in peace

presenting, over all,
a flawed
determination of luster
—————————————————
perhaps, one day,
we’ll all become
the brightest of stars
and all vibrations
will carry over
into the afterlife

step one is think but not too much,
think only enough to move the body,
think only enough to guide
but not too much.
allow the mind
the time to find
itself before you
let it take control of you

step two is think but not too much,
think only enough to still the being,
think only enough to still the urge
but not too much.
allow the body
the freedom
to fall
in forms
it feels
but don't forget
to feel your way

step three is here
you must instill
in order to heal
you must adhere
in order to hear
you must not chase the thrill of rush
but long for sakes of betterment.
what is concealed will slowly reveal,
just follow the steps until
it's time to breathe . . .

step four is breathe,
and breathe as deeply
as the atmosphere allows
and let the astral air
assemble your arousal . . .

~
somehow, I've ended up in this basement again.

this dreary little basement. it's my comfort zone, apparently.
each time I leave, I tell myself I must escape, to get away from comfort.

to get away from darkness that I've known my whole life,
I push and push my own body up these steps,
far too steep for fondness.
push, my self out of that comfort zone
over and over again in pursuit of light
to touch my skin and bring my pigment back,
to bring a little color back into sight . . .
I push my body to some limits it has never known
to break it free from this contentment.

step by step, go one by one;
that's the only way I'm able to keep this spirit moving forward.
slumber caused some stalling way too long.
I take it very slow now;
that's all that I can do now. . .
that's really all I do . . .

drift . . .
in and out of light . . . or maybe in and out of darkness . . .
losing consciousness . . . I'm no longer under surface.

this is foreign land.

I shy away to come right back inside this house,
I left my home to see this other side, and it . . .
just scares me, to be honest.

I'm shaking bad now,
but not just in my legs from lack of energy,
my whole body is quaking,
I'm withdrawing, falling back into this basement,
falling back into this comfort, falling back into this slumber,
going under . . .

and I don't even care
that I am no longer aware of my surroundings . . .
that other side was just too strange,
too far outside my boundaries.

perhaps, I'll try again, tomorrow,
if I get up
~

unending reminders that what we see is what we are
this glass reflects
that, which we see is who we are
. . . pellucid mirrors . . .
that, which we see is what’s become
this glass reflects
unending reminders that what we see is what we’ve done

Leave me in the woods
and watch the grass
grow over my feet.
Place me on a cloud
and look at where I land.

...tread slowly
...tread slowly
...’tis unholy to see freedom.
look around you,
look around you,
see the world and all its bleeding!
say your prayers,
say your prayers,
say your prayers with your eyes open,
don’t lose focus.
don’t lose focus.
we are only what we notice.

you may not be the one,
but you're my one right now.

and if the future never comes,
that'll be the best present
I've ever had.

throughout his soul there is a blend
of monochromatic, a sort of automatic
and indefinite . . .

. . . black . . .

" . . .that a person
from my walk of life
is able to dance amongst
you fine folk, untethered . . .

that's what I hope to prove."

what can liberate me, besides
the sounds of war behind me...

the ability to hear
the drums go silent,
no more marching,
no more fighting
...no more dying...

I've been wounded,
walking,
stumbling
over the bodies.
falling of tears
I'm tired of crying
cries for help!

Help, over here!
I think
we got
a live one...!

But, nobody cares...
'cause nobody hears...
it seems they've all
gone into hiding

unparalleled level of questioning.
skeptical devil deceptively
deviating from the ******,
the spectrum of fools.
'tis destiny's rule
to seek answers
to questions
for lessons
and tools.

Supply me with the right amount of grace
to satisfy my longing.
Do not overwhelm me with your glory;
I have had enough.

*

Run away with all of my belongings,
rob me of my wanting.
Take away the greed that fills me up
and leave my barren body open . . .

…a haunted cave,

a burning light,

enchanted rock,

a dying flame,

ignite the chamber,

start again…

I saw what the other side looked like...
and I didn’t like it.

So I came back.

And now,
knowing all
there is to know,
I’m ready to live life
the way life
is supposed
to be lived.