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I sit here....
I      sit      here...
I                 sit               here...
Procrastinating
p
   r
     o
       c
         r
           a
             s
               t
                 i
                   n
                     a
                       t
                         i
                           n
                              g
until one day, I................................................................­.......................die
having done absolutely  N.   O.    T.    H.    I.    N.   G.
and I regret <dfihbadflhbfihrefbiuwfiuhfihifiufiwief> everything.






Wasting
Every
Minute
pretending to be busy instead of doing school work
Yesterday I found my heart teetering
on the tops of your fingertips.
I was attempting to walk across a tight rope
from my chest to yours without falling.
Ev'ry word you spoke was a gust of wind
pulling me closer to falling and I spoke
my own words to stabilize my legs.
But I knew the tragedy of one slip,
If I said something too strongly or
or I didn't listen well enough,
stumbling off the rope was inevitable;
whether I hit an unknown bottom
or kept falling down the rabbit hole
the result would be the same.
My heart, broken on impact,
the force of gravity tenfold
because the value of my love for you
is everything times ten to the tenth power.
I cannot really fathom a shattered heart right now,
but I'd imagine its something like--
Humpty Dumpty on steroids falling
from the moon instead because someone
accidentally mixed up the two children stories.
Humpty Dumpty jumped over the moon
and shattered every piece of himself on the way down.
For the kings men would never find him again
And I would never be able
to put the pieces back together.
...Hey, ******, ******...Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall,
My life has a reaction entropy of positive infinity
I am sincerely sorry for being an absentee in my own life. You probably don't know me or even care about my existence, nor do you find relevance in my apologetic attempt to reconcile my fruitlessness. But I feel strongly compelled to apologize for my stagnation:

I come from a pond across the way from you. A stowed away break in the trees where the sun only shines for a brief time at noon and disappears for the rest of the day. The birds don't sing their song of sixpense, nor do the fish splash or the frogs belch their symphony. Even the crickets scream as loud as the mimes at the circus. For nothing enters and nothing leaves, so why do you even bother?

I only write to you for what could have been, and pray for forgiveness for what hasn't been. I understand that the act of "what if"s is a waterfall of tears cascading into an abyss, but I find that this journey is a necessary evil.

So what if I made a splash today in my pond, the ocean of things that I can actually control. Sent ripples across the pond and stirred the fish into commotion. The frogs join in the chaos with their symphony  and maybe the crickets, after hearing the low bass of croaking, decide to join in with their rhythm that awakens the birds from their deep slumber. In response, the birds spring up with their joyous melody and the ensemble of nature creates an exuberant noise in a previously dull and dim place. Such a thought that one tiny splash can dictate a tremendous ensemble, such that if you took your thoughts off of your own life for a split second you could possibly be splendidly surprised by burst of nature from an insignificant source. Such small fractions of life can create mesmerizing sound waves that make you a little happier today.

It seems so simple to create, just a whispering splash. Yet I have failed to create a single note that is audible to the outside world.

There are two plausible reasons for my plight: Either the noise I attempt to create is so insignificant to the outside world that more significant amplifications exceed my own capacity to make sound or the world is just simply not listening anymore.

No matter how many times you cry out, jump up and down in the pond and scream your head off at the world; the ripples aren't forming. The waves don't crash on the shore and one is left standing invisible in the center of a drowning amount of commotion.

And if you are reading this, you are the anomaly that has slipped through the sound barrier to hear this silent song.
She spins and twirls
no care in the world;
flower petals cover
the ground she frolics over
following her every which way.
The music guides her sway
her feet glides across the floor
as though her troubles are no more
and her anguish dissipates .
her suffering creates
the harmony and the old tears
fall with the melodic fear
that people are always disapproving.
But when my love is dancing and grooving
her heart skips the sad tracks
and finds her way back
home and in the warmth of my arms.
Her beauty shone bright because the harm
was left on the other side of the room
barricaded by dozens of flower's bloom.
She has been dancing for hours
and the bedroom is flooded with flowers
sprouting from the combination
of one part beauty and three parts the sensation
of being truly loved.
Her body slips into mine like a glove
For she is someone I will never let go of
When we dance together under the moon's love.
written in a time of suffering for my pride and joy, my love and life. RHE
Why is it so dark in my life right now?














My eyes are closed... what else did you expect?
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