Rushing through everything
as if I would cease to live
at any moment
burns me out quite often.
Now its time to pause
not to look back or front
Just to be
but nowhere around..
for a while I guess
let's see how it will be!

That moment by a windowsill when you're looking through a shade

At a different world outside yourself and yet inside remains the same

Do not wonder about what could've been or worry about the other way

Instead let time and seasons pass, good memories come, and bad memories fade away

Listen to the howling wind
Not a whisper in the voice of it
An embodiment of all the aimlessness
And the chaos which was once within
This heaving chest
And beating heart
Which is now outside
Cold and lying bitter still  
And howling like mother nature had tanned its hide
Listen to such a wind as this
And you will understand what it is
And what it means to be trapped inside such bitterness
As the howling wind does speak of it

I am thunder
I am lightning
I am a length of the Willow whip in the wind
Ever cracking in the air and striking
Precariously
That’s how I like to live
When I’m on point
And on the edge
No one can withstand the imminence
The ultimate outcome
When I assume this stance
Ask anyone of my dominance
And they’ll assure you of such prominence
Because when I unchained myself
The thunder rolls
And the strike looms
Ominously

The government has it's secrets
And so do I
We all are deep and in depth creatures
Capable of living both very public
And yet very private lives

And yet every once and awhile in time
I'm astounded by what is that I find
In my own life

That I've been trying and far more confident
In the standards which I set for myself
And now that I'm there without sense of self
I no longer wish nor want to comply

I don't say this much, but that's stupid
To waste your life creating things for someone else
When really all that I create is to learn about myself
To understand the other half, of the other side, of the other me
And to create something so foolishly
And to think that it represents most perfectly
Whatever it is that I did see
That perhaps was stupid of me

If I could box up all of the words
The most beautiful ones that I've found
And send them to you in the mail
I would do it without hesitance
Because beautiful words don't belong in my world
And I'd much rather see them alive and well
In the hands of a fluid reflective girl
Who might just meld them into song
In a world where such words actually belong

No woman's hand will warm my own
And I need no other voice to tell me I can

I'll find no confort in the confusion of another person's soul
I have enough problems within my own

I feel no obligation to try and break this human mold
For this is simply how I am

I just wish that I could stop expecting others
To somehow create the value in me
Which would permit me to grow old without regrets

This most definitely it's a terrible venture in which to invest

Remember when a woman’s walk
Her poise and chance
And most importantly, her ability to dance
Is what drew her outline and intrigued
Every able bodied man
Single or not
To look at her
To wish to offer her a hand
And yet as I am
An able bodied modern man
I hate who I am
Not because I can, but because I cannot dance
Half so well as I like to think I can
But perhaps…
Under the right circumstances
If I could see the shooting star before it descends
And ultimately lands
I would possibly
Almost definitely
Try and practice dancing again