Here is just another thought Going down the stream, Just another thought.
Leaking from a tap Labeled with "purity" Just another trap
The obsessive mind gullibly bites the lure, Obscured by clouds connections, Concealing the large picture.
How every blast creates a reaction! Panic attacks to draw the attention. Where’s the crack in the grand ****’s wall, So we can strike down the reservoir?
Diverting the river that must belong to all Before our eyes - wider worlds shrink small; Cradled by the uniformity of lies that appease, Those grazing in the dunes still tarry at ease.
It’s no wonder!
Insecurity has grown into a most lucrative market As danger becomes the currency on which to place the bet; Release the flow from the control that profits hold fast, Question the junk food that's become the pasture of our mass.
Humble I tumble through a silver lining eyes peeking out of a blinding light travels fast further yet to meet at last between two sides of the same mind bodies lying on many tides dancing over water to unwind
Today I heard myself mumble "I'm waiting for the moon to drop down crush these stones, flush my sight and make me drown" then flesh turns soft pink into shades of light blue like sunrise becoming the sea's painted sky, wide and true I realize I became one with the tide birds flying in my sight I'm their reservoir everyday they will tell me au revoir
and I'll tenderly embrace oceans weary face and make it mine make it mine
began with the end of your sentence the dredges at the bottom of the mocha fool yourself into thinking you are not running on less than nothing accept it doesn’t make sense read the symbols you find at the bottom of your reservoir
I can't say for sure at what age you suddenly start to really take the world in, but I have these specific memories of being an angsty fourteen-year-old running laps around the reservoir at swim practice.
I was so young, but old enough that I really thought I knew what love was, and maybe I did, maybe I knew love in a certain kinda way, a certain kinda love I'm too old to understand now.
I ran laps. I remember noticing my breathing, the one-two-three huff-huff-huff rhythmically circulating oxygen as I went numb from the waist down. I remember thinking about this boy that I loved in some way or another. I remember noticing the water's gentle splashing, the way the high, hot sun reflected off its splishing. I remember the sound of runners passing me by, the sight of those I passed doubled over from a "cramp" or maybe just laziness. I remember the way my coach yelled and yelled, pushed and pushed. I remember feeling and thinking so many different thoughts, noticing so many different things.
I remember the first time that I just took in so much I had to go home and write some love poems, spilling my guts onto college-ruled paper in some various-colored gel pen.
I can't say for sure at what age you suddenly start to really take the world in; I can't say for sure at what age a poet suddenly becomes a poet; but I have these specific memories of the first time I took the world in, and I decided to write about it.