I have long awaited the return of who I was and as this pill slips between my lips and down my esophagus, I am reminded that everything is temporary. The rage within me boils to the surface until every waking moment is spent thinking about my demise and I was never good with being on time. Either too early or too late. I always procrastinate the things most important and the trouble with timing is, it doesn't exist. So why spend life hanging on the edge of the lips you'll never get to kiss. Why exist in someone else's world only to be thrown from the grips of it. The years spent sulking in solitude taught me more things about life and myself than any amount of schooling, or reading rainbow ever could. The things I've seen before my eyes reminded me that being temporary in this every-changing life is probably the best thing for us all, because these things we endure can wear us out more than the time we spend in our cars or on our phones and I'm having trouble adjusting to daylight, because everything I ever see anymore is artificial and obsolete, but so are we. Every person you love, everything you touch will all eventually turn cold and frigid and into something you will never see again, we all die in the end. So take the hands that hold on to your hopes and whisk them into the same categories as your wants and your needs and be everything you've ever wanted yourself to be because everything is temporary. The trouble with timing is we don't have enough of it. The trouble with timing is these hands on the clock move every 86400 seconds, 12 days a week, for 165 days a year- so that's 525949 minutes. So we spend 86400 seconds thinking about the other 1440 minutes of tomorrow. So don't ******* waste it. The trouble with timing is the depression that follows, the moments we waste thinking about the things we can't control or the future we wish we could have. The minutes spent trying to talk ourselves out of anxiety attacks when we know **** well that never works. We don't have much in our lives that makes everything okay, all we really have is these imaginary things we wish we could grasp within our fingertips, like time and money and hopes and dreams but all of it means nothing until you take that step forward and remind yourself that nothing is ever set in stone and there's always a tomorrow so don't spend today dwelling on it. Take your time, but don't waste it. You are a delicate place, treat yourself as such.

Got caught up in this thing called bliss
Trapped inside this euphoria
When indulgence was in my grip
Light and Dark is on its fast forward phase
When all senses comes back to you
You'll figure out that something's missing
Then you'll realize what you willingly gave
Just for the sake of fun
And when the source is out
It won't recognize your being
What's left of you is all you had
The feeling of some part of you is empty
Indulged by some to taste the pleasure
After you found out you lost
There's the regret creeping inside you
And you.....can never take it back
It was never meant to be given back
Presence of loneliness will slowly haunts you
Denying will only lead to failure
Faking it won't even save you
Longing will linger


So there you go......alone.......


Smiling for the better times,
And sobbing after being left behind

Today I turn 20
But my heart feels 80
With a face maybe 18
My mind runs on 90

I need but 3 seconds to cry
2 hours to stop
2 minutes to write
Maybe a lifetime to forget

And 20 seconds later...
The memories come flooding back.

but i will.
i will write it and it may take me
five minutes
or it may take me fifty.
and neither of the two is an absurdly long amount of time,
unless you really think about it.
because five measly minutes
is just the same
as three hundred seconds.
and three hundred seconds
is just the same
as three hundred thousand milliseconds.

we've only just covered one-tenth of an entire fifty minutes,
yet already we have before us
three hundred thousand intricate units of time,
each lasting for the blink of an eye -- no, less --
then vanishing,
like the evanescent remains of a flame
that has been reduced
to first sparks,
then dull embers,
then ashes.

the funny part about it is that you never know
what each tiny little bubble of time might hold,
what might happen when it forms,
or when it pops.

a millisecond is incredibly short,
almost unfairly so.

but three hundred thousand milliseconds?

it can't be said what could happen as those fleeting fractions
slip away.

we may try to grab hold of them,
to catch them in our palms.

but time stops for no one.

so you may find yourself
with empty, bleeding palms,
as a reminder that time is harsh, cruel,
tyrannical.

and as you wrap bandages around your wounds
(or maybe not),
those fleeting milliseconds
will laugh with sudden bursts of cynicism,
like fireworks,
deafeningly silent.

they will laugh
at what a fool you were,
thinking you could catch time
in the palms of your hands.

(a.m.)

Lost, yesterday, somewhere between sunrise and sunset, two golden hours, each set with sixty diamond minutes. No reward is offered, for they are gone forever.

Good Morning America
Act Now!
For today the price is right.
Our American idols have been conveniently portioned and pre-packaged for your enjoyment.
The wheels of fortune have turned in our favor,
laying us down in our warm beds of satisfaction.
Dreaming of the X-factor that will give us our
fifteen minutes

A girl,
no more than sixteen
and pregnant
strives to be a top model.
Overexposed and underdeveloped
barely able to read or write,
she is paraded in front of a camera and lights.
And the studio exec will keep cuttin' those paychecks
as long as you keep tuning in for another
fifteen minutes

The education can wait until the spotlight fades
who needs class mates when you got fans,
as long as those lights keep flashing on your fame, you got another
fifteen minutes