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I tend to forget about all that goes on in my life,
Each mental note is burned,
Like a moth enticed by the beautiful flame,
No matter the importance,
Each trial becomes engulfed by the bigger questions,
That tend to argue about my very existence,
Every realization of growth rises in smoke,
A puff of air released from my lungs,
Blows it away into the blissful nothingness,
That sits in front of us all,
What remains is not memory,
Nor is it emotions,
They are questions,
That only fuel the fire lit between,
My breaths and dreams.
Slipped the whole way to the train,

Acted and taught about what it means to be you,

Walked over lakes back from the train.
The thought of you
Attaches  itself to the fleeting youth
Every day passes, we age
To see each other
Just another thought
Right now is where things are going to take a turn,
The roundabout welcomes another hurried passenger,
The biker sits idle,
The circle goes on,
days past and we are again at "the last",
Round and round,
To leave is only to return,
Weaving a knot to the difference (conscious) that is me,
An infinite point watching every decision,
Only a glimpse from the rear view mirror
We are road locked, *******,
Eventruly drifting off into a sleep that could wind up taking others,
Are you alone in the car?
Are you alone in the car?
Treat you passengers with care,
Pray for a good review for when you finally stop,
Or get out and let someone else become the commander of what roundabout you take,
It may be fun.
How are you?
I am going to lie
On a black mirror
I wrote
Discribed in detail
how it would be done
Finished it with a signature
In the finest of gold ink
Watch it dry
I find in the words
That I spoke truth
The beauty of this lie
Had transformed from a speech
When I spoke the lie was apparent
I was able to write the truth
But when I told you
A lie is all you heard
I think I know why they call the show Black Mirror, "black mirror."
I have thought of these words, not the ones you may hear when your body presses to the air, and the sound-waves go unobstructed, no the words lay here on a page, within a thought that didn't happen today but might show up tomorrow, recorded by the blood of bone, water, and metal, each etched mark, stains the memory of a time when oxygen was free and clean to breathe, finding out that the next moment these words are consumed, their meaning becomes a new personality, these thought words and the specific tact and errors, prolonging the flow from the head to the finger tips, thus causing minor adjustments, which make even the most thought out words seem like they have no true, maybe real, meaning, accused we stand, on trial, only a judge begging for a recess, but my closing statement is not finished.
I keep a thought journal with me everywhere I go and I wrote this poem inside it. the reason this is important is because when I am writing in the journal I never edit myself or stop the word flow unless the thoughts finally stop coming. But with my poetry I look over everything and edit until my words take on a personality of their own. I am pulled towards the gravity of something new.
If there is no sound there will be a guidance of breathing exercises, gently rocking our over worked minds,
It is to take no offence in sleeping during routine check ups, our eyes could also use the rest, but listening is unavoidable and it will find you in the silence,
Seeps into your eardrums and upset the peaceful balance
This is a reworked(meant to be read not heard) opening for a new spoken word  poem I've written, let's hope I can perform it!
I am a rambler that takes his job seriously
Nestled under the bridge away from light
So that those who cross fear my words
Omniscient among the belief I am alone
Married minds think the rambler crazy
No one dare tell me, unable to join me
Isolated instances have come and gone
A story the rambler holds in secret
Curable only by hiding it in his rambles
There  once was a boy lost in the woods, he was not lost at first, but became soon after, because you see he fell in love with a monster, It inthralled him, at first he tired to coax it, lying to it showing it gold and giving it food, pleased with his efforts he tried to take it home, but it turned and ran, but that is not when he gave chase, he waited a day, then two, then four, that would be about a week, maybe more or less, but to him it was an eternity without his monster. Oh but it came back, surprised its self the monster did when it saw the boy standing where it had left him,  the boy remained motionless, but that could be for many reasons, but he'd claim he was trying to freeze time, and maybe he did, either way motionless he remained, till the monster moved close enough to be in reach, as it reached to touch his face, he grabbed it, victory, victory, his eyes closed filled with tears, opening he looked at his capture, no longer was it his monster, it was all a dream, he had fallen asleep in the forest, and now is lost.

— The End —