its this feeling...
a feeling like thousands of vibrations hitting my skin
like a volcano ready to erupt...
like its already erupted but it slower than usual...

its not a stinging pain, but a warm one
hot and strong, like the anger and sadness is making me it own
like hot coals down my throat
a heat radiating within...

and just as quickly as the warmth is there
it vanishes and leaves me with nothing but cold
like the coldest snow on the mountains...
like ice running across my skin...

and it...it leaves me breathless...
the stinging pain of cold,
and the corruption of the heat,
leaves me empty

no happiness, no pain...
nothing but the almost sensations  of something
something that could've been
something that would've been
and it wraps inside me through the inside out

and it feels like you...

The more I try the more I feel like I am losing myself
The right partner, the wrong time
I desire to get my hands *****
To sleep by choice under the stars
Yet I am conforming to a world of cushion

I stand a lost man
Searching for a feeling that imprints a smile
Maybe I am in denial
Feeling to filed and organized
This infatuation of a picket fence,
is not me

There's a voice in my head repeating born to be wild
To ride on a motorcycle at sunset through a canyon with no home
Just apart of the road  
No structure
No direction
Just alive

I battle these thought daily
I fear leaving her and the pain it will cause
Though as it must, the truth prevails
Sirens and bells, heaven and hell
I feel like I'm losing myself

A promise is a debt
  though not written on paper
  once made--from it
  you can't sever.

  You borrowed in gold
  and with gold you must repay
  a promise made is more than gold
  it has to be fulfilled before you pass away from the light of day.

PULLING UP ONE'S SOCKS

The Future had come
to visit.

It knocked politely
on the door and

without waiting
for as much as

a by your leave
invited itself in.

"Come on in why doncha?"
my sarcasm lost on it.

"A word if I may..."
The Future said

"I know this is not
the done thing but..."

I noticed its sentences
never ended in a full stop

always an ellipsis. . .;

The room was full
of Donalls

the many mes I had
yet to be.

"As you can see..."
one of my Future selves

admonished me

"We, that is us, we
are not happy..."

"Oh!" I said facetiously,
"We is not...is we?"

This Royal We business was
beginning to bug me.

All the other Future mes
nodded in agreement

simultaneously.

"You go on the way you are..."
a me 20 years from now

spluttered in
indignation

"There will be no me!"

"And so it is that We
have come to...."

Here it paused
to find the right word

"Have a quiet word
with you. . ."

it coughed and ahemed

"Self to self
( so to speak ). . ."

They chanted as if
they were a Greek Chorus

"WE WANT YOU TO PULL UP
YOUR SOCKS. . .!"

"That's it?"
I said.
"Just that!"

"Just that..!"
the Future sighed

&
left

me to get on
with it.