Earth's approaching              population's

                                    ­                        8 billion

An era united by                                 artists

8 billion

Thoughts one has when                   broken

Becoming wise once seeing     soul's fixed

new color's shown       when we're in love

when we're inspired               it's beautiful

feelings of                                       being lost

burning those walls down

using it's fire to navigate the mind

to share art with them

they'll follow with        walls down as well

                                 that's how I define love

not just burning those walls

burying their very exsitance

building a city over the grave  

to create a change for         the mind state

the greater good                 of individuality

of society                                     and culture

courageously                       *Mikey The Poet

Body aching,
Heart racing,
Edrenalin rushing,
Feet flying,
Rain storming,
Sweat pouing ,
Mind racing!

And for what?
What am I running from?
My past?
Yes,
My past,
The one thing that haunts me.

It may be far away now,
But it's still here
Burning my very exsitance,
Hallowing me to the core.
My very core that has frozen over with time
I no longer feel

It doent matter if I'm dripping from the rain,
Or burnt from the sun
I have one mission
And that,
Is to run.

And the philosopher asked what is time?
It’s what we spend our lives trying to fight
Yet it’s what we will never escape.
It’s a drive to do better, bigger, more
To create and procreate
So that your mark might be left on time
After death it’s the only way we can continue to live
Within memory.

But time diminishes all
Because all is ephemeral
Memories
Mountains
Memories of mountains.
Time is creations vice.

On the cosmic calendar
Humanity has only lived in the last second
Of the last day of the year scale.
Is it likely we’ll live any longer?

Is this what we ignore?
To get ourselves out of bed every morning
Because we realize that actions make no difference in the scheme of things
That our exsitance doesn’t matter to time.
But then why do we live in regret?
Why do we live limited?

Is this how the stars feel?
Like their existence is so small in such a infinitely expanding universe.
Is time real for them?
Or is it just an illusion of our own demise?

Time is the great equalizer
Whether we are what’s good or bad in the world
Time will find a counter for us.
But what happens at the end?
Is there an end to time?
Or does it expand with the universe?

What if out of the infinite number of universes
One singular universe achieves equilibrium in it’s end
Yes the end of its infinity.
Does this mean creation triumphs over time?
Does this signify the end of time? Do we return back to nothing?
To a black hole?
Is  time then reborn from this lack of existence?
Does this process infinitely repeat?

Time is a ****
She screws everyone
She is confusing and beautiful
Time for us is us, our lives
Then the philosopher said” I only wanted the time you could have just said 2:40”

*Moral of this story is proper grammar saves time