Have you ever felt,
The things that I have felt,
Repetition at its finest,
Cycles viciously spinning,
And fires that refuse to go out?

The annoyance of consistency,
Always needing more
                            more,
                           And more,
Until my brain just resists,
The resistance of greed,
But greed is just a substitute for emptiness,
Holes that have been formed inside me,
Craving the very sweetness of joy.

I'm caught on a hook,
A hook of fishermen named desires,
I ache for variety and change,
But the only change is my ability,
To sustain in complexity.

Is it ungrateful to be this way,
Kissing the realism goodbye,
As it drives me to madness,
Leaving me in a state of blue,
And uncertainty?

Independence is what I propose,
But adolescence limits the opportunities,
That have been given to me as a test,
A test of which I continue to fail,
Since I am afraid of responsibility.

Genius talents,
Gifted from god,
I hold him liable of my fate,
Yet since I need this vicious cycle to end,
I must try to take it into my own hands,

Even if I am,
Afraid of the change,
As much as I wish for it.

The brontide words
Of a wounded man
Echo still,
Silent
From when they began
In this place.
...
A voice, not his!
But an Injured man anew
Casting the echoes back
To the stranded,
The echoes remain
Repeated in a new voice
From another wounded man
With brontide dreams

Constricted
Restricted
Bound
Helpless

Four fears remaining constant

Cradle upon the spooned arms,
And the sunken fetus lay at ease.

As the night sky yield a breeze,
And the illumination of dawn woken by the alarms.

Serendipitous actions peak with charms,
And all things calm to a breathless sieze.

The presence brought myself to a knelted knees,
For the shimmering fire showed no harm.

We can only glisten by the laughter it gimmer that all things are going to be okay!

They say that change is the only constant thing in the world,

If then,


*Can I be your change?
And you, my constant?

And you tell yourself you'll change.
And you don't.
And you push your hand through water,
turn upside down and watch the sun ripple.
And you stand in the shower-
No, you sit in the shower,
and you breath through the water,
and you imagine what it might be like to drown.
And it feels like air is hugging your lungs for the first time, curl upside down,
and pretend the water is rain.
You're walking home, because you have a home,
and it's raining.
And you didn't even think to grab an umbrella.
And you don't care.
When your hands are cold, always trust in a hot water faucet.
Flipping 36 times in a row, blowing air out my nose.
And I remember that.
Clouds are made of water,
so it makes sense to feel like you're floating on air.