Stumbling against the will of probability
in the infinite, indefinite, unyielding wait and see.
Wagering the future on a lapse of sanity.
Despite advice, still thinking twice, I brace for what will be.

Little by little,
a piece at a time.
Chipping away at what used to be mine.
Insidious impulse
masquerading as need.
Lie, cheat, and steal its only purpose, to feed.
Laying waste to my health,
and twisting my mind.
While, all the while, it renders me blind.
Calming my demons,
or so it makes me believe.
Yet giving me all the more reason to grieve.

Why do we keep doing this
when it always ends the same,
with little more than spite, regret
and a shifting sense of blame?
We must find something better
than this misplaced courtesy,
but we'll likely just continue
for the sake of what could be.

Caught completely unaware,
I never thought that I should care
or in any way prepare
for the possibility
that what seemed an apparition
was just pattern recognition
and an overdue admission
that I'm not where I should be.

Continuous cacophony
closing in around me.
Relentless, senseless chaos
compromising my ability
to maintain my facade
of calm stability until
it all comes tumbling down,
as it inevitably will.

I could do the "right" thing
and finally cave
or just continue
to dig my own grave.
An easy decision,
or so it should be,
and maybe it will be
eventually,
but right now there's simply
far too much at stake
and I'm probably making
a fatal mistake,
but better to stick
with the devil you know
than to take any risks
and potentially grow.

Scratching at the bottom of the barrel just to find
any scraps that I can forage to maintain my peace of mind.
Eliminating anything that’s not a basic need
As my assets liquefy with such depressing speed.
Just to make it through today is all that I can ask,
but I doubt my bank account is equal to the task.
Struggling to hold the line until my ship comes in
as the waterline keeps rising and the air is getting thin.

Too much time spent getting nowhere.
No more patience left to spare.
A wasted effort, best forgotten,
but then why do I still care?

Stray tangents weaving in and out
of conscious comprehension.
Far too many data points
demanding my attention.
Overloaded, overwhelmed
and over everything.
Whatever sense I may have left
hangs by a fraying string.

Lost in transformation,
not sure what I’ve turned into.
A figment of imagination
or just maybe something new.
Somewhere in the middle ground
between what is and what could be.
Am I lost or have I found
what I’ll become eventually?

I hate to admit it,
but I'm starting to see
that my comfort zone
is growing smaller than me.
A slow suffocation,
removing all doubt
that I must find a reason
to find a way out.

Stay under the radar
and always out of sight.
If you don't get noticed,
then you just might be alright.
Leave nothing unexamined,
don't be taken by surprise
and never let the world see
what hides under your disguise.

Stand tall, but not too proud.
Speak up, but not too loud.
Don't be afraid to be yourself,
but only when allowed.
Try not to inconvenience
and stay out of the way,
but when it's deemed appropriate,
say what you have to say.

Fumbling in darkness
and waiting for the light.
Hoping against hope
that everything will be alright.
Clinging onto anything
that helps you make it through,
contented in the knowledge
that there's nothing you can do.

I'm out of desperate measures
and it's only just begun.
Off to a running start,
but now there's nowhere left to run.
I need to catch my breath,
but that's a risk I just can't take.
There's so much ground to cover
and still far too much at stake.

Caffeinated conversation,
hyperbolic tales of woe.
With plaintive resignation:
"there's just nowhere else to go".
Dollar after hour spent
on grease and grand designs,
wondering where the time went
and reading too much between the lines.

A trick of light
to bright to see
what’s standing right in front of me.
No time to spare
or care at all.
Too unaware, I try to stall,
but it’s too late
my fate is sealed.
It can not wait, it will not yield.
The time is here.
It’s clear that I
must persevere or say goodbye.

But then again, it's hard to tell.
It might, but maybe not. Oh well.
I think it could be ... tough to say.
Just too many shades of gray
and far too much uncertainty
in any possibility
that I just don't know what to do.
I think I'll have to think it through.

Soft lips
and gentle fingertips.
Slowly, inhibition slips
away.
With nothing left to say.
Nothing standing in the way.
We touch.
At first, it seems too much.
Never before have I felt such
a thrill.
As if time is standing still,
not letting another moment pass until
the desire we share is, at last, unrestrained,
a primal exhibition of passion unchained.
Bodies entwined, a frenzied display.
Everything else just melts away.

Old habits die slowly,
never resting in peace,
Clinging to the familiar,
but all things must cease.
Wraiths of the past
come to take what was theirs.
Time claims to heal all,
yet too slowly repairs
all the wounds that say more
than we could ever tell,
but the scars that still plague us
define us as well.
All the fragments of flashbacks
and steps to retrace
are just pieces of puzzles
to fit into place.

You may not believe it now,
but in time you'll feel the sting
of all of the contempt
that familiarity can bring.
Once civility erodes,
predictability gives way
to recycled, stifled conflicts
left with little more to say.

A peculiar somnambulation,
inspired by a dream,
just a fight of imagination ...
insane as it may seem.
Creating nothing but allusions,
albeit with the best intent.
Leading to all the wrong conclusions
and a great deal of embarrassment.

Both rewarded and punished,
for taking the bait,
with aggressive regression
to a simpler state.
In adrenaline's wake,
you're surrounded by fear.
Just a small price to pay
when it all seems so clear.

This maddening silence
is too much to bear.
Too many thoughts,
I just don’t want to care.
I can’t stand to face
all the fear and self-doubt.
I need a distraction
to shut it all out.

Please show me some mercy
and give me some peace.
Whatever it takes
to make the voices cease.
I need a way out,
no matter the cost.
Don’t try to find me,
I’m already lost.

This may not be all that,
but it just might be ok.
The right words are hard to find,
but I'll still write anyway.
From one line to the next,
pushing forward bit by bit,
without much else to say
so I guess that this is it.

tu da ve za sivi
va du vi za vada zo
veda ga va caduza
nevaga za du vo
badeva bada debu
yana ba va gada ze
remana ga redava
mada ga de bada ve

Heart and mind racing,
still pacing my cage.
Blindly retracing
each step just to gauge
the odds that I might
get through this in one piece.
Too tired to fight,
yet unable to cease.

Thrown over the cliff
by a billion what ifs,
because I simply couldn't be sure.
A shadow of doubt
was still lurking about
and had rendered me too insecure.
Grasping for certainty,
scared of what could be.
I'm rapidly turning obsessed.
I just need to know
how it's going to go.
Maybe then I'll be able to rest.

At this point, it seems pointless
to even bother sleeping.
Before I even realize it,
the daylight will come creeping.
Forcing me to do something
I've scheduled far too early
and to grow increasingly,
irreparably surly.

Beware the unexpected,
waiting and unsuspected.
The hidden traps within the gaps
that cannot be detected.
The more you think you know
the less that you’re able to see.
Assumptions lie and life defies
predictability.

Compelled to self-destruction
for the sake of novelty,
an alarming deconstruction
of my flawed ability
to handle the monotony
of mundane repetition
and an irrational tendency
toward personal sedition.

It isn't quite ideal,
this living in reverse.
In fact it's quite surreal
and just a bit perverse.
Rotating counter-clockwise,
never quite catching the sun.
By the time the day is over,
it's only just begun.

Just a few simple words
carefully arranged.
Set in stone for now,
but inevitably changed.
A pointless explanation
of personal insight,
a vain attempt to justify
what I already know is right.
Embellishing the commonplace
until it seems sublime,
or could it be nothing more
than just a dreadful waste of time.

The trial's begun,
with a jury of one,
and I know what I've done
so now the truth will come out,
but while I've done my due diligence,
I just can't find the evidence
to assert my own innocence
beyond unreasonable doubt.

It's simply just a chemical reaction, nothing more.
Developed as an unavoidable means to ensure
the survival of the species, a genetic safety net.
Filled with hope and promise, but it just leads to regret.

A co-dependent waste of time romanticized in vain,
quenching your emotions as it drives you quite insane.
Soft, enticing agony, a velvet shrouded fist.
Malignant smoke and mirrors, but still maybe worth the risk.

Everything seemed perfect,
it just all fit into place.
That is, until the day it slowly
blew up in my face.
I should have know much better,
seen it coming from afar,
but we never truly understand
how blinded that we are
by hope and need and every void
we just can't seem to fill.
However much you feed them,
they just get hungrier still.
I'd like to think I've finally learned
this lesson once again,
but I'm sure that I will probably
be back here now and then.

Just a little bit more
is all that I need
to satisfy these demons
so desperate to feed
on the few remaining pieces
of my peace of mind
and then maybe I might
be able to find
a more permanent solution
to the problems I face
and all of those scars
that time can't quite erase,
but until that happens
I'll just have to endure
and try to make do with
just a little bit more.

Exceeding capacity, ready to break.
Exaggerated desire my only mistake.
Overwhelmed by sensation, my self-control lost.
Overzealous consumption; now counting the cost.
In time this discomfort will all fade away,
instigating another ravenous display.
Until then I'll ponder this wanton concern.
Unfortunately, I'll probably still never learn.

Your time is up it seems
you just don’t fit into the plan
I’m pulling out the plug, the rug.
Whatever else I can.
It’s taken me too long to see
just what you really are
and I’m not giving you the chance
to leave another scar.

You fooled me for a while,
but it won’t work anymore
and your incessant lies
have become too much to ignore.
I’ve had all that I can take
so let me make this very clear.
It’s time for you to leave,
you are no longer wanted here.

Unstable indignation
leveraging ignorant desperation
and exploiting separation,
while you breed uncertainty.
No sense or sympathy can dent
your childish entitlement,
as if an unpaid settlement
is all you ever see.

Its withered, folded pages
tell the story of a story
that's been told a thousand times.
Yet each time,
with every new detail discovered,
every character nuance now understood,
the story is reborn
and the old pages, once faded and worn,
come alive, anew,
to tell their story once more
as if never before.

Distancing myself from
everything I ever knew,
far away from borrowed dreams
and stolen points of view.
Perpetually waiting
for the other shoe to drop
while hoping that just maybe I've
gone far too far to stop.

Digging out from under
everything that I've become,
trying hard to separate
the pieces from the sum.
A difficult solution,
but one long since overdue.
I just hope I don't collapse
before I can break through.

The higher I climb, the deeper I fall.
Doing whatever I can just to stall
the inevitable realization that I'm lost
behind some imaginary line that I've crossed.
No rescue in sight, no plan of attack.
Hoping against hope that I'll find my way back.
Biding and wasting my time until then
and wondering how this could have happened again.

A calculated reflex
in case of emergency.
Just a way to stack the decks
so nobody can see
the weakness hidden just below
the surface of my shell,
behind the curtain of the show
I can't bring myself to tell.

Almost there, but not quite yet.
A given I'm not sure I'll get.
Sense and reason say take it slow,
but impatience has begun to grow.
Hour by hour the minutes creep,
while I wonder if I'm in too deep.
Within my grasp, but still out of reach.
Another day stalled in the breach.

I just don’t know
what’s going on.
It once was there,
but now it’s gone.
It couldn’t have
just disappeared.
This seems to be
just as I feared.
My faculties
have slipped away,
I knew it would
turn out this way.
How can I keep
what I’ve still got?
What was I saying?
I forgot.

Drunk on good intentions
and desperate to act
on comforting presumptions
taken as fact.
Ignoring all the details
that haven't come to light
because it should be obvious,
because you know you're right.

Meandering, pointless beyond recognition,
oblivious to the cause of this condition.
Inspiration once near is now slipping away.
Without passion to cling to, no spark lights the way.
Relentless, intimidating uncertainty
eliminates the trace of possibility.
Idealistically idle, unable to move.
Far too much left to learn, but still more left to prove.

What if only there could be a way
to know what lies ahead.
What if only I knew how to say
the things I've left unsaid.
What if only this was meant to be
and fate was on my side.
What if only it was clear to see
there's no reason to hide.