The world feels lifeless as I see life everywhere.
I know the people who cross the street breathe
the same air I do.
I know the trees I walk past are very much alive.
But the picture my eyes are allowing me to see
feels unauthentic.
Maybe it's not the world.
Maybe it's the way I'm looking at it.
Maybe I picked at my mind too hard
Dug into my subconscious too deep,
now it all looks fake.
My feelings about it all are illegible.
The change that will come is inevitable.
If not I'll force it.
I'll forge a way to see the beauty of the sky again
I hope misanthropy doesn't take me away.
I'd like to find joy in the people who always smile
when I did, again.
To trust others and the fullness of what makes up the world.
To not always figure out the reason for everything.
The universe is always reforming itself
I'll never be able to catch up with it or the why's
of why people are the way they are
or what actually makes me, who I am.
What gives me the ability to still grip onto life
as I'm opposed to it.
I hope I enjoy it all before I fade away.

There's this repulsive need to be anything other than myself.
Without finding myself stuck between the space of,
what would I turn into and who I could be.
To be made of flesh is a mortification.
Still I crave the compassion from others
made the same way.
I'm yearning for something I can not reach.
Something that is not real.
My brain is a graveyard of all my hopes to be
who I should.
There's this intolerable need to be more than myself.
More than human, something worthy.
So I won't be so impassive towards my own reflection.
I'm ragged and uneven, I feel i deserve it all
but, in small micro portions.
Maybe I shall change, with hopes of giving my pain definition.

And I further more can not hear my own thoughts without hearing you.
I’ve accepted we won’t get far.
there's no point to ask the question i know the answer too.
I do not have the ability to experience love without wanting to consume or the need to be consumed.

People say i'm insightful.
when I hear the word and find the interrelation between it and I,
I'm placed back in a room with emotions coating
the surface of the walls.
Each corner is covered in passion.
I'm surrounded by all the things I've swallowed down,
they have returned to choke out of me.
The outside world does not know who I am, they cannot reach me.
I can barely reach myself.
No one came to save me and that drove me mad.
I lost my mind in that room.
I forgot how to breathe, I forgot what I was made of.
More unintelligible than articulate.
I lost so many pieces of my mind, I ate at the passion coated walls.
I got lost in the spirals of my own finger tips
I had sat within myself instead of the emotion sealed room.
Would you understand if I said that the parts of me that die still stay with me?
You use the word insightful.
I know myself so well that I see myself in others
and if I see repetition I fix it.
In his addiction I see connection
In her depression I see expression.
I connect with all of you because part of you was once me.
So insightful maybe.
Maybe I drove myself mad for a reason.
To lose my mind, find my soul.
Connection is a privilege, your experience is a process, to grow from it is a gift.

There's a blockage in my creativity pipe.
There's some potential I haven't tapped into yet,
I read old pieces and wonder
where is that inspiration?
I'd hate to think it's because I'm over the fact you left.
Why am I only able to create when my heart
doesn't function how it should?
The words are falling out of my head
I wish they would fall onto the page.
I used to be all the 3 "I's" in imagination
Originality ran through my blood
I could mold my pain into something so delicate.
I touched people's soul with a simple sentence.
And now I can't even create something I'm mildly okay with.
There's no endearment to kiss on letters.
Nothing to set my eyes on.
I guess alterations had to be made.
There's a blockage somewhere inside of me.
A change is coming.
This is more than a simple poem.
When you feel this lost, you are bound to find
what your soul is searching for.

You could hold me.
Look into my eyes, read my soul.
Kiss my blemishes.
Color my whole entire world pink.
You could find me.
Trail back to how it felt to be part of a whole.
go against whatever's above us just for that.
You could relearn it all again,
desire rampantly and through it all wait.
You could ride a frequency only I can hear.
Still cherish who I am once I disappear.
Know that one day love will find you again.
By the true fact you are apart of me and that is where this love resides.
What I want is impossible but, you could.