it turns out
we were hasty;
though we gathered wood
it was not nearly enough

those fires we had
burned bright
and true
but
maintaining such heat
proved harder
than imagined

offerings
at the start
were too much
too generous
burnt through
too quickly
radiating heat
enveloping us
in a false sense
of comfort

settling into this warmth
this temporary state
of contentment
the need for stoking
                for fresh wood
goes forgotten
as flames die
as embers dull

all it needs
is for someone
to reach out
into the cold
and awaken the fire
but it seems
no one
is willing

It is our mad fate
That conciousness
Unlived and unexiled
Rules

Like a prophet
Whose songs
Cry out in the dark
We stand

Defeated in exile
In front of
An aged mirror
Confused

We press forward
Sinking
In the presence
Of the absolute

at one point
ranks of flowers
lined the garden;
none of which
i could name
nor did i care
to learn

but at full bloom
staring into that kaleidoscope
those colours and the shapes;
there was catharsis

looking now
the garden is
a palette smeared
a spectrum of brown;
         brownish yellow
   greeny brown
      brown on
        slightly darker brown

the dog maintains eye contact
while defecating
on the flower beds;
and this is also
strangely cathartic

you once lived deeply within some passion,
  met it head on, ember-laden,
    and self-assured.

its completion priming a response to share,
  for some ephemeral happiness,
    snared closed to what you'd say was
      "honesty" or "openness."
a truth that even you don't know. but it wasn't that.

winter's edge has dulled those senses,
  mellowed it, twisting into irregular sleep,
    multitude bad habits,
      disdain for the art.

just shy of two turns at half-light--
  theatre has grown stale.

inspiration comes and goes, flickers inconstant,
  meteoric;
    and with each passing flame,
      you grow more weary.

Under the same moon
Warm blood spills out of bodies
Into the dark ground.
Babes are taken from mothers.
Stray dogs **** the weak.
Under the sway of tyrants
Men fight fellow men
To escape the swamp of ****.
Children beg in streets
Where the sick lie naked and
The houses are burnt
For the pockets of the rich.
Under the same sun
Tide goes in and tide goes out
Inside this gift they call life

The more you look around
The more you realize
Every day people are doing
Everyday things,
Things they don’t really want to do,
But must, to get ahead, to stay afloat,
To not get knocked down.
But the more you look around,
You see the hurt, you see the failure,
You see it imminent within you, too.
You resist and you pull away, and you
Tell yourself that you are different,
You will lead a different life and have success.
But the more you look around,
The bleaker it gets.
Sometimes life is better with the blinders on.

Dear diary;
I thought I had
no more hope left to lose
...until I found
a little more hope
left to lose.

how did we start,
equating hope to silly?
the fallacy of optimism,
contrasted by the truth of pessimism,
confused as realism, facts
sent by a goal of ataraxia
(unachievable)

supported by leadership position
(unaccessible)

tinted of eudaimonia
(indefinible)
and the loss of getting ahead
at what cost?
do you tear down
others' hope
with your glance,
fuelled by your own
cowardly manner,
afraid of losing
what you never had,
walks around telling others they won't miss it?

With tests there's right and wrong

I loved getting the right answer

But the real world doesn't work that way
Usually no clear answers.

But I still find myself searching
High and low
for the perfect life circumstance
that will make my heart glow

That will leave me content
Restore my joyful self
Instill feelings of hope
Fill my soul with wealth

But it's a faulty search tactic.

Life is never perfect
It can't fully be controlled
Has its ups and downs
As we continue to get old

For a perfectionist like me
This is hard to accept
If I work a bit harder
I'll never be inept

But this means perpetual dissatisfaction.
Only seeing the bad
The world's falling apart
and everyone's mad

I wish I didn't struggle with my mental health
Or think about this so much
I wish I didn't deeply care
About the world's struggles and such

I must believe I can find joy
Contentment and purpose too
To appreciate things for what they are
Hope and positivity to imbue