The inception of a thought comes from perception
From the desire to create and express
Excitement
The purity is soiled by those who construct labels and boundaries
Causing mental spasms and aborted concepts

The years turn to months
Month turn to days
Days to hours
Hours to minutes
Minutes to seconds
Up until the split moment comes
Always moving forward
Framing your life, organizing it
You can look back but never go back
Death is unavoidable  
Progress is natural
Distractions must be ignored
And value must be found
Time is all we have, some have more than others
How we spend and how we waste it is what matters most
But if we so chose to be on the clock for ever are we getting the most we can out of this all?
Beginnings and ends, there must be more

Maybe the answer is as simple as inhale and exhale
Give and take
The bond between opposites that blend and create a balance
Is that what we call love?
Do we look for love out of fear?
Or out of loneliness?
Is it still love then or just something to keep us afloat as we drift?
Selfishness stalls the answer
In the end its definition varies from one being to another
But it should never be held over your head and demand your compliance
Threatening you with cruelty, that is not love

In reality
There are unanswered questions and unquestioned answers
Identity
Faith
Numbers don't lie apparently
And finding yourself is of the utmost importance
While maintaining enjoyment  through it all
Until you discover it's all false
And your self image
Your ego dies

You begin to separate yourself from the template
You find sense and logic in your self
In your experiences of trial and error
Reminders chime in every now and again
To help you sort through the nonsense
You become sharp, becoming less self-destructive
You know certain truths

Sacrifices are made
Dreams and denial
There are victims
There are those who run to the safety of monotony
And those who meet their cataclysmic ends prematurely
All in search for what we all want to know
Why?
Simple as that
Why does this life operate as it does?
What does it mean?
And who, if anyone can tell us?

Will it all be okay in the next life?
Or once we get there, will we wish to look to the last?
This is projected on to us through out our lineage
But only so far


I know the horror
how you can't undress
without feeling like
a ******* mess.

There's got to be something
more than this,
just write until
your thoughts aren't as heavy.

Everyone glances
but nobody reads:
Pour your emotions
into a glass that
nobody drinks.

There's got to be something
more than
vulnerable words in vain:
a medicine
that increases the pain.

I know the horror
how you can't reveal
the fullest extent
of how you feel.

There has to be something
more than a glance,
to help you feel heard;
to validate your world.

Just learn to write
and let it all go,
even if nobody notices
or nobody knows.

Because there is something
more than this.

Your kisses used to taste like love,
But now kisses taste a lot like leaving.
When the past calls,
I will not answer.
I cannot let myself be toiled with delusions of grandeur,  
Sighing at a wilted garden once called Eden.
This garden, being the same one we built together,
Belonging to us both,
Has long been abandoned.  
I will let the wilting red roses die,
Just like the memory of the way your kisses taste,
Just like the way you let our love die.