Tonight.
Where the hell am I?
what's going on?
I can't tell anymore. I feel like I'm in the middle of a spiraling atmosphere. I sink into the couch like a black hole and stick there, smiling at passersby as they look at me and smile in confusion and disconnect of my thoughts
Smile no more, I'm uninterested in petty conversation, don't feel like cutely arguing with the brunette by the grandfather clock, spilling whatever's in her cup on her bra, forcing looks from perverse passersby. I'd rather be chilling on the computer typing a poem in the middle of the dark in a room with no furniture and listening to music that I can't relate to.
Smiling at the crowd as my spirit warms enough to politely leave, I stand up and blink. Immediately, the vision of the crowd disperses, I see nothing but the light emitting from the laptop on the floor. I look around, blinking more.
Where did they go?
Where am I?
I'm back to the start, back in my unfurnished room, alone in the dark as the street lights shine in through the cracked blinds. I shake my head in realization. It was a mirage, nothing happened, all of my insistence on leaving was for an event that never happened.
I shrink to the floor and lie down,hand on my head in frustration. I want the scene, I want to want to leave from somewhere rather than not be anywhere. So I pick up the laptop and tap a few keys, sending me to lover's land as I effortlessly type more and more of stories long forgotten. I wish It would stop, wish I could stop loathing in self-withdrawal and become more than I feel.
**** these visions, **** these thoughts, let me slip past them and get comfortable, let go of my mind and allow me to become less concerned, let me be lonely in mind again.
Leave.

I'm here now alone in the oblivion once more, alone in my world of desolation, a particularly similar scenario. Can your remember my first day? I woke you from what I thought was a nap so that you could go to 6th period, I didn't know you were already in the class. Oops, sorry, but you know I only meant the best.
Can you remember my confusion in the halls, you smiling at me, saying hi, and me believing it was to someone else? I remember, and, no lie, I kind of miss it.
Do you remember me acting tough when dude snatched my papers, or being cool enough to do his guy's ISS letter so that he was credited a leave of it? I do, can I have that again?
But though this place is bigger, though there are more people, all I see is more steps to take, and more strange gazes to avoid. Fair enough, I guess.
I can't expect to find what we had, Bri, can't expect to find a crush like you, Daja. But what I do hope to see is a phase of the continuation of the poetic chronicles, expect to keep going.
I'm not stuck in the past, I'm just reminiscent, I remember you both in ways that forced my creativity.
Baby bri, my poetic queen and dancing goddess, though pretty not many found you, you were beautiful to me, poem after response, making my brain steam. Thank you for being there.
And, Daja, the silent vigil, seeing through the soul by piercing through your eyes, you made me feel things I had long forgotten. You made me feel infatuation, you made me feel want. For the first time in my life, I grew up. You did this, and for that I thank you too.
Brianna, I can't explain it anymore, I may have a poem, but you have a name to me, something that even I lack to myself. Do you wonder what I'm up to? I sometimes question why it happened the way it did, but I think an answer has become apparent.
Daja, did you know how sassy you really were? You were my definition of a jazzy subconscious, jamming old music that was classic and quietly contemplating what I believe were personal issues. I don't know what you thought, but I have a confession, that poem I gave you? That was the wrong one. In reality, I had a personal one, but I was too scared to give it to you. So I switched it, hoping that the picture christian drew  for you would fit with it. But I realize now what was to honestly happen, I now see why I saw you in the first place, why i knew you.
The two of you, the Angelz of Autaugaville, misunderstood at times but completely understandable to all. One passing through "Love"  like a tunnel, switching positions continuously, but a romantic at heart. And the other, an invisible, what are you thinking? What are you feeling? what are you seeing? Sweeter than soft grapes and a voice as smooth as honey. A spirit I could read and a reason I couldn't find. You two were my wisdom angels, you helped me grow to be who I am at this very moment, and for that I'm continually grateful.
I love you both, though I'm probably forgotten, in any context you'll accept.

Generation or creative expression

A mind is a terrible thing to waste according to the wiseman who first said it, but what about a love?
Because now I feel it in the ways that I had forgotten since my last heartbreak whose influence is still stuck on my heart. But you make me forget.
Image dispersed, vision blurred, glasses broken. But I can still see.
You
The only image that makes sense to my distorted senses. The voice to my deaf ears, the cinnamon to my scentless nose, The warm lips of flavor of whom I miss whenever they're away from mine, and the sight...
A lover worthy of my heart, the heart of a god, the loving nature of a goddess, and the rock-solid trust of a soldier at war.
the goal of my movement is to love you. The real you, not the marrionette you throw in my face as a facade to the true you. Open your heart and let me feed on the energy you burn in your ways. For I am a wispering willow and you, my love, the conversation.
I am draconic and you the flame I breath, the heat I create, the fire I make. A recreation of a desperate scramble in which I would gladly partake with you, but be straight forward with me. The bush is beat, not beaten, and I am open to truths.
A shy soul looking for the love of which I want to supply. Redefining love with what we make and showing the sun that its heat is nothing to that of which we let out when we burn our flames.
Flirtatious, a spirit of whom I was and still am. I have a heart though, and that heart is a fragile being of which I am growing, and I know that you can relate. A deeper bond between man and nature that can't be displayed by those around us, only we can produce the image.
A new generation, the thing that you are destined to bring in at the hands of god himself as he blesses you and showers you with the beginnings of a new world order. No destruction, no war, no new inspirations of battle nor struggle, just
Clear
clearer than the very water you drink, clearer than the air you breathe and the sounds that breech your eardrum. Clearer than the mind of the buddhist who has achieved enlightenment, a wide space of idea and philosophies in my mind of which the only answer is Y-O-U.
You
the generational question of which I still cannot answer. The sad song that plays in my mind during the lonely times, the warm bed to my tired soul. It's you, my answer to a major problem in life, the last piece of the puzzle and now I may once again be complete.
My generation, your generation, our generation. The last foundation of a crumbling building, we, the platform of which it stands on and all others following in our footsteps in order to keep themselves afloat in a world steady sinking, sinking, sinking in it's blind shuffle for power. Let us support its heavy weight for all others and hold hands to keep ourselves from going under.
Love, found, once lost, lost once more, and found once more.