I spoke to you in whispers
but you shouted out my shame
My confidence is now just splinters
I can no longer speak your name

At dawn the sun broke my mask
I wore to dance to your tune
Now I'm just a broken mess
for you look down upon as your due

Can we never hear the music again
that was once our beating pulse?
Why is it you're always the one
that sings more quietly than most?

While we blind ourselves
we simply drown with the tide
Echoes of the past reflect only the failures and so shall it always be

Tomorrows promise is a kiss of remorse
just the same, we shall part
Can we leave what was only,
to pretend what never will be?

As you pull me from the depths
I simply leave you waiting
The nightmares will fade
but will the dreams ever again ring true?

So why do we dance to the same old tune?
When the music goes away
do we simply just nod to each other
knowing there's no other day?
At midnight do we excuse ourselves
to slumber separately with our demons?
Or do we simply hold onto
each other
to survive through the next season?

I taste the goodbye upon your lips
I hear our song slowly fade
Can you not simply follow me
to the shore
where new memories could be made?

In bittersweet reprise is our closing
Here do the credits role
Tonight is a moment and it bleeds the memories
Soon only to be pages from our past

Paint this moments portrait,
and stand back, not see the flaws
It is all in the illusion after all

Except for, in the grains of sand
upon which we danced
are the footsteps of our past
just washing away
Do the pages just turn on?
Because if you asked me in the beginning
I would have told you I didn't dance
But you grabbed me and started swaying
without me having a chance
to tell you I can't hear the music
I just move to a certain beat
The illusion is the only thing
that will move me to my feet

Isn't it after all, the flaws,
that will crack
and we will tumble
You may walk away singing,
while I still fumble with the illusion that we danced so pretty
under a fractured moonlight
While I tried to hold onto you
upon a tortured shore
You walked away from me
Leaving me in the dark of night

I feel like I’m dying each day.
I feel like I’m suffocating, no one is there to help me breath.
Sometimes I feel so bad.
It’s an overwhelming feeling.
Do you see me?
Have I become invisible?

Comes a time
when the mathematics
of the years
becomes more about
- than +,
÷ rather than x.

When wisdom gained
< vitality lost,
and dis-ease > health.

A good night's sleep
and some energy ≈
happiness.

Living is
tangential
to survival,
and not
necessarily
congruent.

Spirit horse
Horse of spirit
You are very
Beautiful to
Everyone you
See as your
Spirit shows
It glows bright
Shining through
Everything like
An ethereal glows
That surrounds
You in its warm
Embrace as you
Move in spirit
And move in
From your true
Beauty begins
To expand ever
Greater ever
Brighter for
All eternity

The  first  signs  of  autumn
are  appearing  this  morning.

The­  sky  is  a  paler  blue
with  ominous  dark  clouds  all  aroun­d.

The  birds  are  much  quieter  too.
although  I  did  hear  ­a  pair  of  mallard  ducks  crying  out.

The fleeting sun across the lawn
Is quite pleasant

The  Invasion  of  house  flies
seem  to  have  subside­d.


Keith  Wilson.  Windermere.  UK.  2016.

I went to the house, for the first time in months.
I had spent so many hours here.
This felt like home, this is where my heart was at.
I wasn’t supposed to be here; my parents would get mad.
I wanted to see them though.
My aunt, my uncle, my cousins.
I didn’t want it to end, I walked through the house looking at everything.
I saw the vase I made my aunt.
I saw pictures of me when I was younger.
My cousin and I played basketball.
I watched my uncle watch football.
I talked to my oldest cousin.
I memorized the house before I left.
I don’t know when I will see you all again.
I love you so much.

It becomes exhausting to come up with some ******* statement to intrigue thee. I'm not the everyday "raconteur" of great stories or jolly experiences. To be honest with each and every individual I meet about the struggles I face would take the courage I don't have. So I avoid the situation all together.

What does it mean to **** at adulting?

The question I despise the most upon meeting relatives or friends of family is...

"So what are your future plans?" i.e. (What are your accomplishments that will delight me? What are your goals? How much money are you making out of this?) I agree in which it's quite a bold matter to address, but the question ***** the life RIGHT out of childhood.

That's when I know I **** at adulting.

I repulse the means to grow up and get my **** together. Some would characterize it as extreme laziness, carelessness or even stupidity. But most times I feel as though if you don't understand the challenges I face, you wouldn't understand my dilemma.

Peering through crimson curtains,
Into the life of someone new.
Peeling away their layers,
Until all becomes black, just like you.