another attempt at this
this soliloquy
oh, hello
I haven't realized you were there
my feelings are everywhere
I ponder of decadency
curses, blank verses
my idiocy worthless
wander for that
drop of sanity
restrictions soon born
from nonsense jurisdiction  
thoughtless truths
aspired from fiction
try desperately to wade through
diction to carry my weight
to wade through all this hate
crates beaten blind too straight
a compass to identity
I need to find my way
I cannot possibly begin to say
how astray we are from amenity
my journey in adolescence
I feel like once before
a child of eight  
I dreamt of terrible
marvelous skates
weaving simplicity
complexity in outer space
rocket ships realities traced
now to spines of crates
drowning to the lid, lost salty straits
yet what is once
will never begin again
look at me now, eight
I live to see light of day
and end with kissing white *****
of those medallion ivory gates
filthy green dollars
as they clip my windpipes
to hush our voices gone hoarse
in constant delay
smothered so we stray breathless,
worthless in constant replay
a desolate lampshade
shattered shards of what
remained of eight year old dreams
a second chance too late
a second path too vain
my liberty to express
those wooden crates, open
passionately
constantly drift astray
in those seas of dismay
have no fear for me
the stars will now
guide me the way  
it's going to be okay,
my precious eight

I am a listless romantic,
Still waiting for romance with a fairy tale ending.
Time is cruel, and vanity fades.
Still I sit and wait.

Lackadaisical,
My looks now lack decadency and my fashion has fallen out of taste.
Time is cruel, and age grows.
Still I sit and wait.

Cleary romance is but whimsical dreams and one must not rush in haste.
But time does not forgive, time does not see the beauty in the personality
Time is restless, angry, vibrant and a toxic lover
It takes a piece by piece of me.
Yet still I sit and wait.

Never knew pleasure, never knew the human touch.
Cling to false hopes that society has not lost reasoning, discernment is for looks and not “me”
Little did I know I was a dreamer, love is false, love is fake, love is based on illusion and myth.
I did not know how to play the game, I was not born to love, I was not born to touch, I was only born to sit and wait.

Breath becomes still
Now he comes to me
In my sleep, maybe finally I can find that love
As still I wait. . .