Will words ever explain this perpetual breakdown
A cyclic pattern of relentless wondering
How is it once an earlier bird
Suddenly a night owl
Pessimism tangentially transitioned
To something a little less like rhetoric
This spiraling lifestyle suddenly a little less sickening

Does this seem acceptable

To be and not to be
And it seems this mind lately
Is gathering its ideals from some new unfathomable philosophy
Still no excuse for such obscurity in ones life

Surely

There is gold in them hills, he says
Gazing whistfully at her peaks and valleys
So he's going digging
Chipping happily away at each new glittering curve he discovers
She watched on in giggling, sunlight type wonder
Curious if he shall ever be satisfied
For he was of a thirsty nature
One for white lightening
Another for the metallic shine
Of her lace-edged divine

"My life has been the poem I would have writ"
But I could not both live and utter it.
The words- of Henry David Thoreau
echo in the woods outside my childhood home
but I can see a younger me with rolled up sleeves
diligently grinding graphite against loose-leaf,
I watch as he tries to capture snippets of life  
like fireflies in mason jars on summer nights.
He squandered the sands of the hour glass,
recluse in his room obsessing over a moments pass
but has he not breathed life into soon forgotten memories,
striking alive these Frankenstein ideas with electricity?

Broken bottle friends, some call it social alcoholism
Everyone’s famous, for the night at least
The value of signatures
Listed above names on bar receipts
Drug dealers playing in the street, what some might call shamanism
All it really is, just an eclectic collectivism
That leads to remarkable nights that aren’t remembered
Realizations that problems are just and our lives dredge on
Invincible for the night
Or perhaps
Just brave enough to embrace ones true self

The blurred lines in my mind
have my thoughts playing on rewind,
like an old school mixtape
it took me forever to find
and all the songs play on shuffle,
each one a memory from a different day,
remembering the hussle
and all the things I couldn't say,
but I got every little part
of every tune
memorized to heart
and when I play them on repeat
from the start
I get lost in the tracks, fumbling,
checking out this road map
with no streets,
just valleys and hills
and when the beat gets faster,
I can feel the thrill