I live a fortunate and blessed life.

Each morning I wake waiting
For the ball to drop, knowing
I will be the sole creator
Of my own  demise.
Nature, nurture, the stars.
How I long to let go
Past out of mind.
To be optimistic and secure.
To let the fog of the past clear.
In eager anticipation I wait.

I search through my disheveled mind bits and pieces  are all I find.
Perchance you could delve into me, and recapture inumerous philosophies .
All I can grap easily, are fragments of life’s poetry.

What do I want.. I cannot say.
The hope of a new, brighter day.
Where we are at peace with one and our souls.
Love doesn’t consist of the body alone.

Where people eat but there is no hunger.
The old and the wise only grow younger.
Where time is irrelevant.
There’s always a cure.
Where social identity is all a blur.

When we needn’t think about world pollution.
The ozone layers have received a solution.
This is where my peace would be.
This twisted world makes sence to me.

If I think loud enough,
maybe the screaming hysterical silence,
Will ease just enough to decifer at least one
Splinter of useful knowledge or gain

No willl.  
No precognition for a better life.
Hope is a gaping hole, just  look into my eyes. Don’t stare.
You may become immersed in the abysmal
Well of ****, it’s my place not yours.
Those are my nails stuck in the wall. That retch is my being, slowly decomposing.  My apologies for the stench.