Time flows in one direction
my memories a fake projection
of things that were
and are no more.

Of plans I make
only time will tell
if they are doomed
to end in hell.

Now is here and
Now is gone,
with the speed of light,
time flows,
not just for me alone.

Until the sun has crossed the zenith,
I would like to wander, across and beneeth, the mountains, or perhaps simply a valley, if the weather is blissful and kind once more,
I want to read the scripture, given to me and study it without bore,
Perhaps tea would suit me well, maybe I will remain lazy as I dwell,
I want to feel the gentle breeze of the spring getting lost in daydreams
Maybe a shining barrage will be fine, oh no it would be a crime, getting lost in unfulfillable fantasies which bring glee, wonderfully,
I want to eat some cake, discussing astronomy, the beauty of space,
Oh how beautiful it would be, to see your joyful, sweet gaze during it

What I desire might sound extra ordinary, but worry not my dear,
Because you know, I live in fear, isolation and akwardness here,
I make all these plans, yet in the end, none will be fulfilled, you hear?
After all, I got no friends to talk to, but reading should be very fun,
And I might not be too lazy to walk alone if it is under the sun,
But do not worry about me, no one does, I am just me,
A sea of love with no one to be

~ Umi

The plan was to be independent
I had my goals written down
My priorities were in check
I was going to follow through
And achieve what I had to in the end
But then **** happened
And my ascetic side was left for dead

All my dreams I trapped in a mausoleum
My spurious persona was in the lead
My new ambitions were kaleidoscopic
They were all wants and never needs
Something new always grabbed my attention
Once I had achieved a thing
Slowly but surely I was being drowned
By deceit and greed

And one day I searched myself and could not find me
I did not see the me that was a visionary
I had missed my way and that was clear to see
I was already in the depths of the ocean of sin when it finally dawned on me

At this point even self-love couldn't save me
And self-hatred couldn't change me
Even self-will couldn't revive me
So I found a coping mechanism
To help me live with my atrocities
Under the ocean of sin.

Is today the day I finally wake up
And start accepting that my life
Is not just something that happens
But something that comes from strife?
Will I finally agree that ambition,
If it is not present inside of me,
Sets me on no forward path at all,
And instead leaves me in entropy.

Will I see for myself, that battle
Is always being waged between
Getting where I really need to go
And some fairy tale in a magazine?
Will I quit looking at friendship
As a search for a good joke?
Or I will finally stop letting my skirt
Be a place for people to blow smoke?

Will I stop finding excuses for sloth
And do the harder things to succeed?
Will I finally see that there are more
Than two motivations, hunger and greed?
Will I take care of my moral housekeeping
As well as I do my home and my car?
When someone mentions caracter traits
Will I even know what those things are?

Every day of life when I was younger
It was always so easy to kick back
And do nothing much of anything about
Those tenets of true adulthood I lack.
I preferred to lie around on my ****
And let other people do all the work
Then have another can of beer, laugh
And call them all just mindless jerks.

All that was fine for endless decades
Then recently I began to look up and see
That my life is a tale of no headway made.
There were four constant pals, one was me.
With dead-end jobs, and dressed the same,
Just as we did when we were tweens.
Here we were middle-aged do-littles
Smoking dope in old 501 jeans.

So, I’m changing directions as of today.
I’m buying some decent clothes to wear,
Shaving my lip beard off right now
And taking some time to fix my hair.
I want to look on the outside as if I were
Less I was something inside more than dust.
I’ll get a real job, save money and then
I know I’ll do more than sit around and rust.

So many plans have been ruined by wrenches
that we should rid the earth of them all:
wrest them from metal workers and stonemasons,
pile them up, burn them.
A crowd gathers in the firelight,
cheering the flames on, warmed by
dreams of perfection.