Today I want to have some fun, so perhaps I’ll go on a run.
“What, are you crazy?” My mother said,
“Get your **** upstairs! Go to bed!”

“****!” Said I or, perhaps I’m remembering wrong,
I likely didn’t curse at that age, but I’ll move on.
So I climbed the stairs, as I often did,
Disappointed to a fault, though I wouldn’t pretend.

The next day I approached and declared: “Tomorrow, I feel, I will want to go eat.
But not the same places….Somewhere different, somewhere unique!”
“Oh no, I forgot, you must forgive,” She said. “I did not remember, I forgot to call again!”

And so again I return to my room,
“Why!?” I ask myself, “why am I trapped in this costume?
Parading as someone, but in truth silenced, kept behind glass.
My true self guarded, completely bypassed.

Yesterday I begged, “could I go to my friend's party?”
“Forget it, definitely not, I don’t know those folks and you know it!
Go into the kitchen and study, this family needs you to support it.”

“So, where did you then see yourself in ten years, how about twenty?”
The doctor asked me to clarify…but I sat in silence, reminiscing over something,
That might have been more significant than I knew.
After all, weren’t these sessions designed to give what has happened a more skeptical review?

“I think I saw myself happy,” I said, “but I don’t know what that means.”
How could suppression of culture, constant rejection prove to be a success?
Would I have confidence in myself, could I seek out a dream?

“Well, let’s try and think of it a different way,” he said,
“Let’s take a deep breath, close your eyes, let’s see what we see.
Have you been able to go out and find yourself?”
I replied, “Doctor, I’m not sure who that’d be.”

What is it that makes us all feel,
As if we must know our purpose?
If I had invented the automobile,
Would you assign that to me, or could I, let's say, lead a circus?

Would I then be named a car master, you know,
The one whom they name taskmaster, if you forget to oil a caster?
Or could I make use of my skills elsewhere,
On a trapeze or rope, high in the air… or a desk, handing out healthcare?

If I am unsure of what it is that I most want,
Why can you not allow me retrospection enough,
That I may find affection with something, rather than weeded through natural selection.
Is it not your responsibility to bear? Am I asking too much?

From progress we find, that often there are those,
Who give up on a dream, and perhaps unbeknownst, fuel those for others.
It is, in this way of course, time that with which I dare to take,
To understand my own purpose. What is it that I can make?

Because if you are to believe my logic listed here,
It would stand to reason that I might quickly seek my dream career,
Less of course, I run the risk of being stuck here where I am,
Fueling the dream career of all those unlike myself, yeah,
That’s the dream they all share.

The light of the day begins to fade away.

How can I look upon a gray sky,
When the illumination that sits so close in front,
Stresses my heart, my soul, my eyes into slow decay?

I promise to not further rhyme with an “A,”
But you must say….
That is the last time, but what, can you blame me?
My eyes have simply dried like the dead sea!

Oh to be so clever and free,
That I expect you to read this rhyming scheme,
And further wonder its premise, but not to reveal,
That the lack of one is most likely the appeal.

Can you understand? Do you, for me, not feel?

This stress and strain can be so hefty on my brain,
That I lack my concentration, I lack the frame,
Of consciousness to write coherent dialogue.

My favorite ride in a theme park is a water log,
****! There is it again, wandering thoughts, wandering rhythm,
What is it that is causing this schism!?

Perhaps, if I slow, perhaps if I write, perhaps it will calm my ache tonight.

And so I write, and so you read,
And so my thoughts become more clean,
More full, yes, less clouded, no more like steel wool.
Boy that was a mouthful, but you can see my point of view.

Less is more, take it as so!

You must audit your intake, beware the glow.
Else, your mind may freeze, your thoughts may wander,
But on this, please ponder, You may find screens to be your undoing.

11:09
The ticking of time, frozen in such a silent space.
I find myself listening to a chime, but yet,
Second to the focus surrounding my pain.

Rain
The pounding of water, drowning all that it sees.
Though the picture I see, hung with purpose, but yet,
Ever changing is the vista on its frame.

Thoughts
Wandering and chaotic, fleeting and yet never ending.
I see this tree, alone in my frame and in this vista Im lost, but yet,
Sensing my way through a cloud of frustration.

Fear
Less as time travels on, suppressed into a soul shaped from its scar.
I think that now I can reclassify it as ignorance, but yet,
It remains as that which I cannot take away.

Obstacles
Ungrounded at five, to be soon grounded again for life.
I begin to construct a reason in my mind, but yet,
There they all are set to remain, to be conquered or left unchanged.

Purpose
Stubbornness unfurled, its change that must be made,
Though they walk right by, me, a mere tree in a frame, but yet,
The growth is there to be observed.

11:10
The metaphor grows a bit thin.
In coming back to the moment I remember that there is work left to do, but yet,
I will not be making a phone call today.