When the world became absurd,
I never viewed it the same.
My body is just
My brain;
My brain is just
A thing
In a world of things.

Before I became conscious,
I only existed.
When everything is important,
Nothing is real.
Lies become cruel truths
At the site of
Consciousness.
What rises to matter is nothing--
In a sense:

If you accept the absurd world
For what it is,
You can make
Anything real.
Decide what makes
You happy,
What makes you
Love,
And embrace it.
We have to make our lives
Mean something,
Or they never will.

So, love everything but nothing,
And make your
Absurd world
Real.

The hills,
Dusted with motherly oak trees
And invasive weeds,
Roll beneath my feet
Until they sink into the
Depths of the shimmering bay.
The gracious murmurs of the waves
Caress the sweet land I love while
Spreading outward till my vision can't
Encapsulate it.
I transport into its glittering kingdom
For as long as my moment lasts.
I blink back to my stake atop my hills,
Gazing over the expanse of my home
As if through a portal of the
Map I authored
Or which authored me.
With the cool breeze in the
Golden-streaked clouds
Against a darkening sky,
I watch my home melt away
Into a new beginning.

8 months
          of my childhood remain;
        of laughter,
      protection,
and little to no pain.

8 months
  of the lovely life I've known;
      of carelessness,
        carefulness,
            and the honest love that's grown.

8 months
          till I trial a new profile;
        till my life becomes a mess,
      I think it's for the best,
and I simply pretend to smile.

8 months
  till I leave it all behind;
      till I only see strange faces,
          drown in fear of changes,
and slowly lose my mind.

If only I didn't need
To forget;

If only I didn't yearn
For my innocence, and
It'd never left me;

If only I didn't crave solace
Because nothing was dim;

If only I couldn't realize
My life's unsolicited depreciation;

If only I solely felt physical pain;

If only I didn't need
To reforget.

Tomorrow is like being on death row.

The idea of Tomorrow is intended to be hopeful,
But Tomorrow can bring the moment that ends
Life as you know it.

We cannot anticipate a tragedy.
When we awaken from a slumped slumber,
We don’t expect our future sorrow.

Every day filled with ruthless tears
Could have been a routine day,
And every routine day
Could vaporize in a millisecond.

We will forever be unaware
Of our fate --
Unaware of what will come Tomorrow,
Today,
Or ten minutes from now.

So savor every ignorant moment:
You never know when life
Will happen.

The human soul is blind
    To any a malevolent heart;
It sees through a hopeful and trusting lens
    Only to be shattered into betrayed shards.

A seemingly respectable honeybee
    Wears a mask to hide
The nasty, stinging, pitch black mud dauber
   That broods on the inside.

The world’s magical colors
    Begin to fade away,
For the true colors were uncloaked at last,
    And all that was left was gray.