millions
billions
trillions of people
existing in our own little bubbles
despite whether or not
we live with people
we are in our own stories
and when they align
it's like shooting stars
glorious
or
disastrous
i do not live in this reality
my mind cannot exist in its own story
drifting
i float in the clouds

We are all desperately unique
We are all crazy
All awkward
All different
But the same
We are all the loud one
Because we fear the silence
We are all the strange one
Petrified of normal
The out-of-control car
Careening along
It over-corrects
Until it is too late
Once
All that was not perfect was unusual
All that was unusual was wrong
Now, all that is not outlandish is normal
All that is normal is offensive
Obscene to the eyes of those who cannot accept
The beautiful alike
Society has done away with the usual
Cast out the status queue
Spat upon the normal
For it is the normal that is their nemesis
It is the inconspicuous that shows their demons
We are all the same
None of us vary
None different
None strange
We crave the attention
Gasp in a mad scramble for beauty
Desire
We need to be different
Grasping at qualities that are not there
Not needed
We ignore what exists
Searching for what does not
We desperately to change
We must accept the mundane
Embrace the usual
For it is only in the usual, blank whiteness
That colors can shine
That the unique can flourish
The car straitens
We are not different
We are the beautiful alike

Words are like fire
Hot, refining, reckless, beautiful
They can calm the furious-
Infuriate the calm
They can spill forth like a waterfall
They can be mathematically issued in lines of perfect harmony
They can be thrown into jumbles and mean things they did not before
Words are like a tidal wave
They start with a ripple, undetected
But the closer they draw, the greater their magnitude is realized
Their destructive, cleansing, awesome power is something we will never
comprehend
Words are like a stifling, flickering start of a flame
They can be a soothing and warm healer in the hands of one
And a menacing, out-of-control frenzy in the hands of another
Words define themselves, each other, us, the universe, and everything in
it
If they define themselves, how will we know what they truly mean?
Do they truly mean anything, or do we merely perceive them to mean
what we want?
Some words, we remember
They mean to us what they may not to other people
They can make us feel beyond what they mean on their surface
Words are like a fire
In a second
They can change a life.

it was just a plain day
as Life sat on a bench
silently observing the figures
that passed around
when suddenly Death came
and greeted Her old friend
Life shook His head when He saw Her
knowing what it meant
"Which one will you take today?"
Life quietly asked Death
"I do not know quite yet"
Death replied
"It seems another story might be writing its own ending"
so the two sat waiting
until late that night Death walked off
to the lost one
holding the knife in it's own hand

"Wovon man nicht sprechen kann, darueber muss man schweigen."

Young, we understand
the world, but not ourselves.
Old, we understand
ourselves, but not the world.
Between falls the mysterious
and baffling substance
of our lives. Confusion
marks any real life
of consciousness.
Certainty is the lie
we believe in to smooth
the transition. Death
is the period that punctuates
the end of our sentence,
when we finally know
what we really know
in silence.