I go through the motions
Of the ocean waves
Haunted by illusions of control

I stumble and fall, into the water
Breathing it in
The poison burning my lungs
As I choke

I try to unlock
What lies beyond
But I am stiff and motionless

Emotionless
The corrosiveness
Eating at my very core

You wont see it

The lack of control
The rise and fall, of the waves
As they crash into me
As they wash me ashore

You wont see me cease to breathe
The water weighing my lungs down
The water making me bleed
With a full frontal collision

I am collateral damage
I am the aftermath of disaster
I am the sadness
Thereafter

I am the chaos, the calm,
The lightning and the fog
I am a motionless corpse

You wont see it
When I cough and stand
Brush off the sand
As I rise and stumble back into the ocean
As the waves destroy me once more
As my body is washed ashore
Again

You wont see me

When I nod and smile
While you speak
When I cheer, as you peak
When I fall to the ground
When you turn around
Never to get up again.

Everything is made from everything else.
The deep oceans of the iris.
To the integration of speech.
It all circles around the finite life people lead.
Regardless of what the self made kings and gods through the ages proclaimed.
Their ashes litter the same earth as the peasants that washed their ignorant feet.
There was no shinigami awaiting to return them to their kingdom.
All that stood before them as the last breathe was drawn were those same peasants.
Waiting for the last rites to be given so the fresh corpse could be taken to rot in a tomb.
Some shallow grave that was neither glorious nor spectacular.
The only thing it accomplished was cementing the cold fact that this life is it.
No bells or horns to guide the spirit.
No animal to hint at something greater.
Just a box.
With a pillow to ensure maximum comfort.
So when the decomposition sets in.
At least the box was pretty.
Pointless.
From one ignorant being to the rest.
Mayday.
Clear the predicted crash site.
And wait.
There will be limbs to collect.
Maybe for once.
All the pieces will be salvaged.
Not likely though.

Today, for the first time in my life,
Got bored observing people.

My look at those gazeless eyes
Other times plainly happy for the shining lights.

My definition of 'shining' is not equal to their's,
Of 'success' neither.

Finally alone I felt lonely for the first time in a while,
Guess all friends are away,

Except for a few inanimated ones.

She held a hurricane
inside her heart.

And yet,

They wondered
why it rained.

It's "Originality"
and she bleeds it.
She doesn't just want it,
she needs it.
Each day she Lives it
and each day she breathes it
She told me she hates it,
and I know that she means it
A sweet, blooming flower
left to rot--alone,
in secret.
no outlet for an energy
so hungry you're left speechless
to this dead flower I send my condolences,
the deepest

"Everyone goes one way or another"

I don't think this is what you meant it like that;
I don't think you even knew I was listening.
I guess we both misunderstood the situation.