set the scene, you are old. As old as any one you ever knew.
Locked in

isolated for the incubation of whatever they
they
they, these
masked  others,
I see eyes only, like if Lone Ranger were inside out,
where his mask is, is eyes and their fleshy environs
to the edge of brows, still effectively
arching, one by one in some
models of these hoo-min…
beings

whatever they swabbed in my gnose… is
working…
Things morphevolverevolve and twist to catch a beam
slipping past the shades,

see, there
in your eye, I see, that mote be me, my self,
might I

extract my self and leave you wishing for more?

Some people erase my warm feelings for themselves by their blindness and deafness for my feelings and tell others in my absence that Spriha has changed.

The truth,
The lies,
The pleasure,
And love,
All things that when told,
Still have a time when it hurts...

You come at the best of times,
And the hardest part is when I cannot cry,
You leave me here to lie between,
Beddings and sheets,
And as much as one cares to weep,
You instill this repercussion of my sanity,
Leaving a shut down,
Like when a computer... shuts down,
However it's crazy right?
How the shut down leads to a standby,
But when you're dealing with two parts,
It is not the machine no,
But merely the display,
As it, replays a signal,
That there is no signal,
There is nothing feeding the monitor,
There is no rest for the screen,
Always on,
Slowly.... dying,

As soon as it activates,
It is consuming,
Consuming the complex knowledge,
Energy,
And memory,
Of what is,
Was,
or will be,
And what became,
To create the distinction and difference between man and machine,
Is the stand,
And the costume,

As I stand here,
Staring at what is merely the imaginative reality,
The one I've always talked,
Dreamed,
Discussed...
What is the truth,
The lie,
When I love,
Hate the feeling,
I told myself,

When you are on the other side...
Does it still hurt?

Prosperity follows labor
And not just “having fun”
My ratio of fun to work?
One to ten, or ten to one?

Prosperity follows service
I ask when the day is done
My time on self or others?
One to ten, or ten to one?

Prosperity follows purpose
Do I use focus (or none)?
Ratio of living on purpose?
One to ten, or ten to one?

my heart has been my achilles’ heel more than a time or two
but I can’t help but be grateful that after everything, the world hasn’t been able to harden it
human nature is selfish motives
but empathy and I have become well acquainted
let my tombstone read “she was soft”
let me give love like I’ll never run out
let me be your resting place
and if you need the air in my lungs
or the organs in-between my bones I’ll give you those too
and if all I ever do is make others feel loved, that will be enough for me

The nights are as young as we are,
The days, are as long as our nightmares,
Our dreams are short,
But long during,
To compare ourselves with others,
Is like comparing our nightmares,
They'll never be the same,
For one person's nightmares,
Are another's day dream.