Thoughtlessly
I sit here
And I write
A garbage collection of words
Without putting an ounce of effort
To care for what they say

Turn up the volume to drown out that noise
The noise of life tearing away at your poise.
Envying those who effortlessly succeed
That noise is constantly putting effort in to impede.

A terribly determined turtle finds itself never wrong,
Because its goal will not be met for another creature’s lifetime.
This extraordinary turtle, so bent on its desires
Will fall a thousand years, and only be halfway there.
Cousin of Medusa’s eyes, encased halfway in stone
A machine unmatched with self serving attributes
Don’t get in its way, or it will have to turn around
And you do not have time for that, you’ve got a to-do list.
But a turtle, oh no, it only has one goal.
Don’t move too quick, impatience is the only feared predator.

An empty-calendar day is a day to desire.
It is a gift to which all the weary require.
What may come of said day is endless potential endeavors.
Until that day comes true and you find yourself stuck within it forever.
I don’t recall asking for this calamity.
But on this day, I find myself relieving other’s worry with formalities.
I am doing just fine, please don’t worry about a thing.
Sitting here lying while every syllable spoken starts to sting.
Reminiscing on the past, just a tic before midnight,
In a state of ignorant bliss, until the new day dawned all of its might.
A fragile child with expectations doomed to be thwarted.
This day is destined for you and it cannot- Will not be averted.
A day full of responsibility is a day to get by.
A day full of nothing is a day you will cry, I WANT TO
die.

Don’t relinquish your thoughts to a day designed for melancholy.
On your busiest day full of distracting stress, are you seldom folly.
Recuperate. Recover. Bounce back. Convalesce.
Every ounce you exert toward positivity is step of progress.
This is just a day in which you find yourself subjugated.
Only those who did not try on this day were suffocated.
It’s a painful wretched day you can never undo.
But it’s a memory for you to tell others; it is something to get through.
The sun has risen and fallen and the dark night has returned,
But tomorrow is a full-calendar day, a return to pure pleasure, which you have well earned.

This is what it is. If you don’t like it, despise it in peace.
I will write this now, and soon share it with you as if you begged me, “oh please!”
I don’t care what you think, this piece is for me.
But it’s sad because I can’t stop thinking of you for its these words you’ll read.

I am an overflow of emotions, but it isn’t unpleasant.
I am not full of anything, my mood is only a crescent.
Can you see what I mean, is the message even present?
Should I scrap this right here like torn wrapping paper from a present?

That is egregious. You’ve already started.
Please don’t abandon me, writer, I don’t want to be discarded.
You’re doing so well, you’re really an artist.
I love how you write me so eager and fullhearted.

Nowhere left to go with this story, so it seems.
A piece of writing, five minutes ago was just a dream.
I can picture you now, encased in a box with so much gleam.
Goodbye to you words with a nonsensical theme.

This is not a poem, but...

At least 10 people were killed as a result of a school shooting in Texas this morning. It's a tragedy, but one of the sort that seems to diminish in scope with each passing month. Ten people lost their lives in a fury of unimaginable pain and anguish, yet we seem to grow more immune by the hour. it's a mournful event over which we should weep, but it seems our hearts grow frosty and we hardly bat an eye. Because here's the thing--it's hardly news anymore. We are hardly surprised, hardly hurt, hardly affected. And this is perhaps the greatest tragedy of all.

4 victims were killed in a Tennessee Waffle House--surely now that I mention it, you recall the headlines. That was less than a month ago. The Parkland, Florida school shooting that left 17 dead was less than 2.5 months ago. The Sutherland Springs church shooting that left 26 dead was 6.5 months ago. The Las Vegas Massacre, which saw 58 people killed and over 800 injured, happened not even 8 months ago. The Pulse nightclub shooting that left 49 dead is not even 2 years old. The Charleston Church shooting, killing 9 and perpetrated by white supremacist Dylann Roof, isn't even 3 years old. The Aurora, Colorado movie theater shooting that killed 12 was almost 6 years ago, and the Sandy Hook shooting, leaving 27 dead--20 of whom were elementary schoolers--happened only months later.  The Virginia Tech shooting that killed 32 was 11 years ago. Columbine, where 15 people died, will be 19 years old this coming Sunday.

We remember all the headlines, but little of the aftermath. There's too much pain and trauma involved to fully recall the mournful scenes that follow each shooting. And so we are forced to attempt to move on with our lives, thereby washing our hands of the stain of these ****** massacres. We call for reforms, then forget when our politicians move on.

Indeed, our greatest and most fearsome coping mechanism, put simply, has been to forget. We forget the anguish, the empty, hollow, now-caustic thoughts and prayers, the toothless promises of reform. We forget, and move on. On to the street, on to the next, safe in the knowledge that we tried.

...

It seems to me that the greatest and most lamentable tragedy of this entire conversation may not be the crime itself, but rather our reaction to it.

And so it was, then, that when I read this morning's headline about the Texas shooting, I was hardly surprised. My greatest shock was that I was not shocked. And that I was not shocked, and that you weren't either, I'll wager, might be a crime greater than all the others.

After all, those who forget the past are doomed to repeat it, no?

Until next time, then...

Fundamental
Foundation.
Facetious
Frivolous
Fruitless
Facade.
Foi­l
Frustrate
Fastidious
Fool.