The words that flow from my mouth

Unfiltered

Full of grit and **** and bile

My actions

Too aggressive and destructive and thoughtless

My existence

Too pointless and worthless and shameful

The soldier is just that. They fight in actual wars. They risk their lives to protect the "morals" of their "country". None-the-less, they want a better future for their children.

When the war is done, the soldiers children are the farmers. The farmers rebuild, and want. They want material objects. Maybe it's the food they lacked when they were young. Maybe it's a gas guzzling sports car. None-the-less, they want a better future for their children.

When material "wealth" has been achieved the artist is born to the farmer. The artist has the time to take actual pleasure in life's little wonders. But they also have the time to see all the injustices in the world. Injustices, vial enough to start a . . . war.  None-the-less, they want a better future for their children.

Maybe that's the point of it all.

Maybe we have to fall,
and we have to
break, until we cannot
break anymore.

"You speak
    to me as if
       you're
            afraid
    we'll fall
               in love"

Today's buried under the promise of tomorrow
tomorrow's yesterday adrift in delusions
of a future in vain from the inaction of today
the future of today cheated by the yearning of the subsequent
the past a lesson forgotten today yet relived tomorrow
Goodbye yesterday's tomorrow, it's time to lose the present to the future and the future to a present endlessly hallucinating
the progress of another day another time

no one loves me
but they claim they care
if they really did wouldn't they see

i am falling apart
fragile to the touch
yet they keep on pushing me

closer to the edge
and they think i can take more
so they push farther till i'm at the brink

it's like they know i can't swim
but they are going overboard
and they'll be suprised when i sink

He asked her what it's like living with anxiety.

She smiled sadly, "It's a never-ending pulse-race. Like knowing you don't want to jump off a cliff but not being able to talk yourself down from it.

Your fears take on a nebulous, unidentifiable form that tightens around your throat and incapacitates you.

There is no calm. No peace. Only the edge of a very strained thread."

Brain, brain go away
Don't want to listen one more day
Already lonely and afraid
Feel insecure and full of shame

Brain, brain don't act this way
You're always angry; Filled with hate
You know we're joined; Can't separate
Yourself your punching in the face

Brain, brain what can I say
To make it so you see things straight
Don't know how much more I can take
Of constant warring and debate

Brain, brain it's getting late
This journey's not some endless race
Life's flying by and at this pace
Forget a win; Not gonna place

Brain, brain let's medicate
I'll feed you drugs and we'll sedate
The only way to mitigate
Discrepancies we generate

Brain, brain we sadly waste
This outcome feels like it was fate
But never was there a sealed date
Fulfilling what we self-create

Brain, brain so much we faced
Success so close could almost taste
Instead our tail we always chased
We'll die alone sad and disgraced

I had a habit of just sitting down on the white plastic floor and letting my thoughts consume me.

Words filled my head like a flock of bats, others burrowed under my skin like ticks.

Others bore deep into my bones, hurting every piece of fat and worming through every tendon and muscle and….

I felt my head hit the back wall, my eyes snapped open.