Do I care if someone reads this?
Just a few words that I put together one night.
A blog wrapped in a medium of stone age art.
I spend my life building these structures,
semi representation of my underlying self
replicating a random style, theme, and form.
All this time of study on how to find rhyme,
interlocked with philosophical quandaries
and a self-reflection of my psychological state.
Winding out long hidden feelings, sending it all out,
like yelling out the window to see who actually turns.
Though, do I shout loud enough,
or do I prefer whispering to myself?
I wonder if I care if nobody reads this.
We come into life, and leave it alone for a reason,
our whole being is to be trapped behind our outward gaze.
Madness is external, so is our precious vanity.
Nobody cares, and everybody is a nobody,
So who does?
If my eyes are the last to see these words,
I ask what that means to me.
I put this out to be read,
but if it’s not
do I care?
His story is boring and long,
full of contradictors, who played
little to no purpose
The ending, oh that ending
predictable, and again, had
little to no purpose
I am… I am… A failure
Never saw him again
but that tall tale he told
stays with me
no matter how bad
She sat alone with the child of her true love. A true love that will never love her back. Her eyes lift heavy with tears to a reflection of herself on the wall. Pain that only she can see, and only through a lens of tears.
Tired of her selfish view, her eyes tried to focus away from the broken face of emptiness, to focus on a picture of her love smiling beside her. His face frozen with a smile and eyes glimmering in perfect joy of the moment.
With a blink and wipe of her wrist, her eyes focused again to the image of a young girl crying on the ground. Feeling lost within life and herself, having to guide the last remainder of her love to a hopeful life to one unlike her own. She looks back at the photo that is gently placed in the plastic frame, at the photo of a man that had taken her spirit. With the face he will have forever.
And in the corner of her eye, sitting broken on the floor, a reflection of the face she too will have forever.
I witness the memories that I no longer have
refreshed new with refracted eye
youth be revisited, I fall in love again
frame after enamored frame
I recall upon your archaic name
filling the room with quantum spirits
lives together in symbiotic dreams
And for one moment, I am alive
over and over again
I find myself
and I am with you
Breathe in the brisk air of life
Breathe out the exhaust from your heart
the air around me is muggy
I cannot catch my breath
This is what it feels like
to be intimate with death
What I have
What I can loose
Who am I without it?
Who is Kant
Who is Hegel
Who set the first step in my home
I forgot your name
Remember it for me
Willingness to structure situations
appearance for self patience
mood information outside advantage
Accent politeness to change choice