Sometimes it's as simple as squeezing one thought into one quotation
Sometimes it's too wordy to reach that satisfaction following an end
Sometimes it's simple but ya can't find the words while missing all the signs
Sometimes it's complicated but can be illustrated in just a few lines
Sometimes you can't figure out how to coax it out
Sometimes there's no stopping it from getting out and wandering about

©2024

Nothing will ever go completely right. As long as there will always be those who wants to hoard things for themselves even though, aware they will never live forever.
As long as there will always be those who are not ready to live right and reasonably...
What's the point?
Reasonably!
Hoarding!
Foolishly!
All leads to the den of obliteration.
Perplexed?
Let's give up!
What if we give down?
What's it about surrender!
What's it about never surrender?
No one is, an exception.
There is neither a thing I can hardly do, except to right the wrongs of the mind with my words.
Words inscribing the wrongs and beauty of the soul in a pinchbeck, puny age, is like a melodious masterpiece of a violin in a noisy throng, rarely a soul offers any attention.
A token of my contribution.
Smiles.. I hope that be enough. Though "bitter Smiles"  cause nothing is ever enough..
Enough!
Cheers..
Verily we are spend thrifts by nature we exhausts everything.  And we! eventually gets exhausted.
Up 4am.
Having aftermath dinner.
With the most tremendous of guests,  comforting yet tormenting, thoughts and Memories.
Dining on meals and wines of,  unfathomable class and brand.
With the most tranquiling of musics, echos of emptiness.
Guarded by The magnificent majestic retinue, lugubrious phantoms.
Encompassed by The most absorbing and cimmerian paintings, mystical darkness.
"In a stead formed yet unformed by ether, the mind".

an all consuming love*
took hold of the narcissist
his great admiration for self
was the everlasting gist

in front of the mirror he stood
kissing his own reflection
whilst at it saying I'm so deserving
of my steadfast affection

yes he was absorbed
in a love profound of pond
this being the love he'd
keep fervently fond

no one else could love him
with such a richness of care
cause he was unable to
empathetically share

the love he did bear inside
his indulgent infantile heart
would never be completely
*cleaved apart

My eyes only focus
on my regrets of the past.

My fingers only touch
my scars that never heal.

My ears only hear
my own vitriol.

My words only mention
me, myself, and I.

Self-absorbed in pain.

We are absorbed
From one click of a button
To 5 hours of life
Reliving a cycle every day
Thinking it can’t get any better
The more followers
The better life
Only posting what you want
And not letting them see the other sides
Pictures only there for a moment
Then washed away never to be seen again
When moments could be spent better
Long lasting moments
With no worry of a time limit
Instead we are made robots
Dependant on 5 inches
Missing what life has to offer
Too afraid to leave them at home
Because you you may miss a notification
You never cared about anyway
Making life easier every generation
Thinking the only way to make friends
Is by chatting online
Getting a reply
But waiting 5 minutes
Because we are too afraid of seeming desperate
Walking right past someone
Who you could have shared your life with
But instead your head was faced to the floor
But of course
The floor is more important than a person
But this item smaller than your hands
Somehow gained a power to control us
Hooked us into this trap
That is too late to run away from
Forgetting the date and saying it didn’t remind me
Will be the only excuse
And family, friends, and people
Will no longer be an option
Soon we will all walk around with tubes in our ears
And goggles over our eyes
Seeing a virtual world that must be greater than what we were given
Meeting people but never seeing them
But it’s fine
Because we have all we need between 5 inches

Who do you call when there is no one to call?
Your last friend that catches your sense of humour, dies without a sense of humour
The friend that generally made up all of your contacts

Calls beforehand of daily progress always went answered to a mother who no longer exists
They were followed by a friend who absorbed everything said
These absorptions poisoned the well of humour and goodwill that you befriended in the first place

Your contacts list might grow in the days ahead
But the optimism that that idea requires to believe in  and the failed rate of your previous confidants make you feel you should protect all
Keep everything within, never explode.
Hopefully implode.