I'M GLAD YOU
think there's more to me than this
I'm glad that when the sun shines
it shines right onto your back
I'm glad it darkens your skin
and brightens your mood
I'm glad we are complete opposites
you smile at me and I smile back
you'll never be as neat as me
I'M GLAD YOU
say you love me
I'm glad that you love me
I'm glad you think you do
I'm glad that I'm not sure if I love you
it's easier this way
we stay, ok, we don't, cool
nothing really matters to me
I'd rather be halfway than
completely hindered
I'd rather be halfway than
completely hindered
I'd rather be halfway than
completely hindered

Unmask me if I dare impede
The character I am now is unchanged
This is knowledge of my own undertaking.
But there is something only you could see.

Dismantle me if I barricade
My feelings have no meaning
There is a blank expression on my face.
I move in time before I freeze.

Where do you find the courage,
Who provided you with the gall to say
"Oh dear, sweet hindrance"
Be released.

Gilded cage so small and tiny
Even singing comes out whiny
Stinking of fake fresh and piney
Tis the season
Leaking water warm and briny
With good reason

Christmas cheer and glasses toast
Loved ones smile and laugh and boast
I sit perched upon my post
A tinsled column
Invisible reluctant host
A heart that's solemn

A longing for a love so distant
The melancholy is persistent
A smile could erase it in an instant
On a face cherubic
For my heart is not resistent
It's theraputic

So that smile that is perfection
Is mirrored in my own reflection
Without a thought about rejection
Hallucinations
About the subtlest inflection
In Salutations

Surrounded by the merrily intense
With drunkard tendencies immense
A bar with all accoutrements
They pound tequila
Drinking away the sacraments
Oh yes, I feel ya

Merry time with old Kris Kringle
Guests all lubed enough to mingle
Mistletoe hangs and sleigh bells jingle
Gifts homemade
Tables adourned and glasses tingle
Gold brocade

Still I sit all caged and flightless
Blind to joy all sad and sightless
Drink could make it hurt a mite less
I'm going backward
Laying here all limp and lifeless
Broke and fractured

Surrounded by the fake and vexing
Artificial and quite perplexing
Reality they are rejecting
The devil may care
Bellies bare and muscles flexing
Lost underwear

So ******* dancing to the jukebox
Lost alone here in the boondocks
There is no snow upon the rooftops
Ahead they forge
Find a room before that thing pops
It's so engorged

Neighbor ***** all dressed in orange
Wearing gold to make the poor cringe
Stripping time to fill her syringe
I'll be her hinderance
Still too drunk from her last binge
Faulty remembrance

Ridding riff raff from the party
People still drunk on Bacardi
Noxious gasses burp and farty
With toilets makeshift
Worn out makeup on the smarty
She needs a facelift

Time to let the people go
Too tired to keep watching the show
Drinking hard and walking slow
Verbose yet listless
Honey I don't want to know
It's not my business

I love your sensitivity
nurture it, it's a treasure
like a superhuman power
said noone to anybody ever

You're upset oh no- I must fix this-
you're broken, please don't cry
these tears make me uncomfortable
supress them, make them dry

A perfectly natural display
of normal human behaviour
is seen by some as weak
too feminine, a problem, a failure

Stop being so ****** sensitive
they're just animals, killed for us
now eat up all your diner
and stop making such a fuss

Don't question, object or argue
just nod, agree and grin
there's no place for emotional outbursts
in the society we're in

It seems sometimes today
with all this mad confusion
in a world of talking robots
we've forgotten that we're human

Yes I want to notice a smartly-dressed
pensioner alone by a train,
to image how it feels
feel his wisdom, feel his pain

because to feel a pull of emotion
glancing at a passing strangers eyes
is neither a weakness nor a hinderance
but a blessing in disguise

               ~

Closing without an appearance as it seemed into the mind of the clock a tick mentioned once my name and second to tick it the same and am I deferent or do I change what slept into the quite breath once too deep to further sleep  into dreams I wake to the many days of night or sleep to want more light which seems too ease through my eyes dare I blink once to notice and tire to know if anymore would late the stress that weighs like the psychotic sight to drown what left me a name mentioned to the corner of my face and speaks once as it did appear into an amount of ticking left in into my head as left unsaid I walked cornered to my face into the mirror I face my turn into the beginning of what I meant to mention smiles turn and my eyes wait far from idle and look I present the finish face of an internal clock of missing parts that were filled like the hand of mechanical man like knuckles busted turned to every click like clink a shuffling grasp of machine like hands into the machine forgotten like death onto the machine clock, tick and falls all the names goes into your name ***** the **** name

Oh, they notice.
Yes, we do.
It just for ethical reason of manners.
We must not admit to the truth.

Oh, we notice the hips, the lips, the walk.
Yeah, men's notice this all about you.

Even with their spouse.
And they about to break their necks not to look.
Believe me.
Men's notice you.

The debate between them.
Is long as they don't touch.
Many feels it's not a big deal.
But on the other hand.
You'll hear the religious segments talking about lusting after them.
When in reality, it's them hiding in pretense.

Men's notice.
Whether within church.
Whether at work.
Men's notice.

Whether in the park.
Or relaxing in the pool.
Men's notice.
And believe me.
Women knows, who's looking too?

To some, it's a compliment.
To others, it's a hinderance.
But either way men's notice.

They always do.
Except, some like to play the blind man game.
As, if they don't see a single thing.

We notice, the eyes, the hands, the skin.
Some even go beyond respect to notice your friends.

Where do this noticing begins to end?

A lifetime of  ineffective tactics;

A solemn occlusion
Such an obscene intrusion--
(To break through  the confusion
brought on  by  The Illusion)

Within  seclusion,
is felt  the Conclusion--
the only one for me.
Heaven will be my Hell
(I know that too well..)

From a whole lifetime
  Summed up 

within the word, "Fail".
.      .      .      .      .     .      

Here on Earth
I feel the presence of Heaven
And  within me
I know..
I know..
I know..

I know.

What gain  is A Forever in Heaven?
I already feel it in me--
   But it is not me.

Yet, within me..  it  is  me;
and it will never.. ever leave.

Sweet Love of mine..
whom I can't seem
to break through, to
In order to  truly be there
   for you.

   Help me  to earn
         the right
   To descend in to Hell
(where there is no longer
the strength of Illusion)
Here,  I am not that strong;
I cannot break through it
   There..   in Gehenna
will be the removal  of illusion..
    Leaving only The View,  

      (.. no hinderance.)
.      .      .      .      .     .     .     .

Hell  is  the  View.. 
  perfectly seen,   from


  the most unbearable
                      distance.


May  what is in me
never leave me
And the Hell,  of Hell
   be,  to me
  like  a  Forever  Rising  Sun..
The most incredible, Heaven.
(the removal of illusion)

I pray you're not there..
   (almost  as much..)

Selah.


       My Heaven;
is to be with  anyone
       or everyone
(apart from  the illusion)

In order to  truly be there
   for them.

Our inner demons shout out
As we dance inside
A prelude to inner harmony
Or a doorway of unknowing
Imagine where we are
Can You?
Does uncertainty gather strength?
Or merely security
One and the same
Not so, not strength gathers
Security hinders

the following additions will seems like plastic
surgery,
               and in turn will put the encompassed
poem under much strain,
  but as i will say: a 48h marathon can do
that to your narrative "skills"... well... techniques...
   esp. given it's winter in the northern
hemisphere, and two nights and two days
actually feels like three nights and two days,
given we're into our second day, and i've already
experienced a night-time this morning looking
at the clock.

  italics will be pleasantly omitted...

        instead... a maxim style akin to la Rochefoucauld
will be adopted... to merely insert
             toothache when otherwise the ***
is sitting on a leather sofa and thinking what would
be a better chance to juice up the brain with a
psychoactive sedative-effect, i.e. with what liquid?
    coffee on the brain is a sahara, as is famously
known: arabs love their coffee... and their
  baklava dressed in balaclavas - or as we say in
Europe: there's enough water, so we drink alcohol.
    turns out diabetic rates only go down in arabia
if enough sports cars are imported... must be
the g-force diet.

         but hey! look at the title! the title was always
going to to resemble the final version of
the preliminary work, the sketch, of what went on
last night...
                   beginning with the scariest film i have ever
seen: a horror movie without anything to do with
night or its aura (i was about to say aurora, never mind),
a movie from 2002... which ended being more scary
even it almost bagged the lead role an oscar...
        and then what i can only claim to be better than
gaming these days... taking graphic novels onto screen...

which brings me to a question, and if i ask the question
with a mature enough wording,
i might actually get a serious debate going...
     namely? x-men, first class...
         and i share something with this theme,
did you know that people remember far away from
Chernobyl parks being pigmented, where
   there were segregational duo-incisions in the trees
from the radiation? it happened nearing when i
was born, spring, and the women were told to drink
iodine... that 2002 film shows iodine treatment
   on "mental" patients, you pour enough iodine down
the nostrils you get a better understanding of
epilepsy... ah... the magical things people could ever
think of doing on another human being, let alone
   a courgette, or a steak...
                well, yes, in parks, half the trees were
the colour of spring, all green and asparagus juicy...
the other half were brown, and decaying,
    almost potato skinned, if not simply: potato skinned.
      as i said, i was a foetus at the time,
and apparently some Scandinavian got a microcosmic
whiff of it and panicked... let alone those exposed
too close to Chernobyl, a radiation-pH spectrum
emerged, of who and how they were exposed it...
    cancer, for example, is prevalent in Poland of
those who don't get to experience a midlife mental
disorder of buying a yacht... lucky them...
   which fits nicely into the seriousness of graphic
novels, as that film unbreakable clearly demonstrates...
  all realism of graphic novels actually stems
from batman... my favourite... no super-powers,
plus i had a simulation of being orphaned and raised
by my grandparents for 2 - 4 years while my early
psyche developed, and then redeveloped utilising
a different language, then went back to settle old dues,
and then went back again: charged with having read
    antoine de saint-exupéry on a year long
hiatus that allowed me to watch the 1998 world cup
              in a dark-lit room with my great-grandmother
and see France win... with such jubilation as if
Napoleon just came back from Elbe for seconds.
this is not the point, i said i would word it maturely
and not look half as an ***:
    why does francis xavier sympathise with
max eisenhardt, but belittles james "logan" howlett?

   all things start so small, i just remembered listening
to this song that allows you to lay down words like
bricks in a wall (prometheus' 9th - the man who swam
through a speaker)...

  why does he, is francis xavier just ******* that
one of logan's mutation counter-pluses is his ability
   to regenerate health and vitality, while at the same time
creating a amnesic hinderance to apply his psychopathy?
i guess it is... max on the other hand as unchanging:
fixed memory coordinates, because physically:
he's unscratched... up to a point of how this debate
runs its course... i just don't see how francis has to
belittle logan... just like henry "hank" mccoy is first
belittled as simply bigfoot... the problem with
amnesia is that even you have the capacity to
engage in telepathy (rooting out distant pathologies
rooted deep inside your psyche that never allow
you to reach a full potential - or what's Freud's
case of postulating receding pathologies and subsequently
creating a forward looking theory to work with
in creating uninhibiting constructs -
       francis xavier? nothing more than a psychiatrist...
in the modern sense, without iodine treatment,
or electric-shock-therapy... rather the guy that
says everyone is special via talk-therapy...
  and all psychiatrists have this child in them:
they all want to be telepathic... just like all
manual labourers want to be telekinetic) -
           the oldest chestnut, if there ever was a hazelnut
to boot.

       original, as except of what is to come...
  i mean, what i started off is now bound to italics,
  just to make a point that after watching 48 hours
of things, and having finally looked at symbols,
    i could only write so much coherently,
before donning what looked like some poet's clothes,
and stepping into a foggy highnoon for
  a bottle of beer, a bottle of whiskey, and
     a prescription of insomnia pills...
   well (they're called anti-depressants for old people,
who prefer to treat their "depression" - if not
merely old age, while they're asleep)...

no one would ask for this type
of hiatus...
       some would call it:
being an american spy,
      getting caught in soviet
russia and enduring interrogation
techniques -
    yes, a "hiatus" of nearing
48 hours: of being constantly awake.
       or what certain former
east europeans going back
   to see family members might
ask about, when Lithuania, Estonia
and Latvia are under a national
sway of general jittering paranoia
as reported by English newspapers
   and later established by
            an American president's
tour of the region -
                         or how Crimea
is the 37th or 38th or whatever no. it's
now - or whether it's
           Tartar autonom oblast -
but indeed, nearing a 48 hour long
insomniac "hiatus".

            and i can sympathise with francis xavier
experiences when max eisenhardt is first encountered,
this sharpness of a psyche, rather than its automation
or literal non-existence... this is why i could
            stay up for longer than 48 hours if i wanted to,
but i can see so much in being awake for so long
that natural consequence is that:
a. i have lost the capacity to dream,
  b. i have translated the capability to dream into code
(namely the letters you see before you)
   and
c. i have found a "safe-space" to recuperate from
the pain i feel...
  meaning
      d. i know with what ease people acquire a substance
known as a soul... and with what ease they can
think in this substance, like a fish in water...
    what i'm talking is a lobster a boiling basin,
where your exoskeleton can mean a lot upon
jumping off a cliff, but when your inner flesh,
starts to be almost eaten by the mutation of protein
from tapeworm larvae into edible meat?
      i know this substance, i have experienced it...
and i know that i dare not put a soul into a foetus
that doesn't have a workable tongue, bladder and ****.
  i think it's time to end this preliminary "work".

I originally wrote this as a song, but after a while I came to like it better as a poem.

I remember the first time I saw you,
It was a star filled summer's night.
I couldn't find the courage to talk to you at first sight.
No tight game to run
No tricks up my sleeve
My heart said "you have a chance", but my brain wouldn't let me believe...
That the most beautiful girl I had ever seen would talk to a geek like me.

It would be a year or so before our paths would cross again,
Maybe it was luck, or maybe I had some help from the wind.
It blew me in your direction...
No course. Me young and reckless, you fragile and the essence of perfection.
On that day we met I found my courage, opened up and made small talk as we passed back and forth a bright, alive ciggarette.
To you it was small talk, to me it meant the world
To you it was nothing, to me it was one step on a long road that ended with me calling you my girl.
Years passed and we grew close, but my confidence vanished, like an apiration, a ghost.
I had my chances, knew what could be...but my brain still wouldn't believe that a girl like you could see something in a geek like me.

More time has passed,
And our distance has grown.
All that signs that I once saw have now vanished on that road.
The love I was trying to weave, could no be sewn, and the word love has become nothing more than a hinderance, a drone.

The nostalgia those times hold will never be replaced
and neither will the feelings I get whenever I come across your grace.
Those star filled nights will be held as some of my best, I know this might come as a surprise to you, but I just had to get this off of my chest,
Needed to leave them etched in every line of this song...
I knew the queen in you wouldn't fall for this geek all along.

A tempest moulders in the distant air,
Obscured by darkness, thick with arrogance;
The intermittent rumblings make aware
That night of fright that skirts our sentience.

There is no use in preparations now,
The wrath impending is without withdrawal.
Would only we had heeded nature's vow,
The worst might not descend in disavowal.

Yet here we stand in pooling ignorance,
The very atmosphere our own regret,
For as the price of foresight's hinderance,
We stand to fare this evening sopping wet.

A tempest moulders, filled with looming light.
That we expect it shall not ease this night.

Who am I
This flesh and bone cage
Proving a hinderance
A canvas for the paint
Of scorn and judgement
A creation of a persecution
Deserved by none
Who I am buried
Beneath brush strokes
Colors that mean nothing
When looked at with a blind eye
My canvas is one of love
An identity and struggle
One that smudges
Strays from between the lines
Of what is accepted
But on my life's canvas
Who I am is who I am
One that I do not even know at times
Each stroke of the brush
Is a different moment
My life in color
Vivid, all mine

Now high and dry, well away from
***** being kicked, orders being fired by
Sergeants in habits and the melancholy of misled minds,
I sit alone on the desk which floats supreme over life's listless limits.

A momentary meander allows for ripe reflection,
Its sharp spasm hampering heavy hands.
Abandoning the tangle of thoughts,
A loose leaf was plucked from the ream,
The quill now dipped in the bobbing black bottle.

Smudges and streaks stroke the initial lines,
Blotted out in choked coughs.
A quickening of the rapid's pace cleared the throat,
Allowing the quill to quell the heart's hinderance.
Stanzas threaded unabatedly over man's baseness on the blanched leaf.

The nightmare nine-metre vomiting verge approached fast.
I clinched the closing couplet
Afore etching the endangered ink on the etherised skin of my hand.
Holding on fiercely now to the desk which destroyed my drudgery,
Ready now to have my lungs filled to the brim with society’s sap.

Prior to the old soul taking its final breath,
Two bleeding and blessed eyes cast down to the bottom of the aquatic monster
Witnessed the immortality of black ink intact
Lifting up its lover leaf
Into the high heavens above,
Where man and rust cannot corrupt.

Words no longer matter
The world no longer exists
only you and me
touching endlessly
loving without hinderance
only you and me
working for each other
cherishing every last minute
only you and me
melting into one
It’s a little too much fun
only you and me
cuddling so close
The movie playing softly
only you and me
slowly                 drift         away
content
with
being
with
you
only you and me.

Supine and enamored in cotton sheets.
Motionless, with vessels dilated at the time.

The filtered light makes it’s journey.
Warmed by the hour, warned by the noise.

A voiceless yawn, a reflex, and then stretch.
A conscious gasp followed by flaccidity.

Yet the day before, perpetuates
the morning after.

Evenings always seem to foretell
the prior hours of our working days.

If the day moves, without faults
we speak in a elated way.

When a hinderance appears
and untimely tragedy commits.

The liquid labor may be your vice
to secure then admit vulnerability.

Nothing more are the stumbles
that only gather footing
and stand against
the door opening

to traffic, streets garnered
with endless glows
within our restless minds
finding exits to resetting the past
and just returning home

Awake in a hell that tortures every day.
This heart is renching fit to burst,
My audience watches with relentless thirst.
Dancing in the firing line my vision starts to sway,
watching eyes rigid as hearts strings fade and fray.
Oblivious in loves rythm i cry hear me sing!
suspended on my lovers silver wing.
Then fall together like birds of a feather,
Stain their hearts with your sumptuous melody,
then we erupt in screams that pierce ones dreams,
that in one instance wipe away the elegence.
but in memory lies your timeless remedy,
which force together traumas blood soaked seams.
and free from the flesh you fly devoid of hinderance.

Whatever decision I make.. it always seems that I regret making that decision. ..I always wonder how life would be if I had made another instead. 
 
It seems no matter what I am always being too ******* myself. At least that is what I keep hearing. No matter how familiar it may become there is always a sense of uncertainty and confusion. 
 
A face I have seen.... a face that I have kissed.... the person I have held in my arms... it doesn't take long for them to become strange again. And as soon as they do.... I sink a little farther down. 
 
I would like to have been something else. Someone else. Someone different.... One that wouldn't disappoint nor hurt you like I have. I didn't realize how much I was hurting you. I have failed in what I value the most.... protecting the ones I love. I have failed you.. 
 
You look so beautiful. This smile I see you wear.. It reflects upon me. I realize that smile wasn't there before when I was standing next to you.... The smile I tried to coax out never needed my help... or was it hinderance? 
 
I don't know..

Praise God, did you hear what President Trump just said?

Thus was I greeted on my way to get the mail.
Least said, soonest mended, pokes me below the fifth rib.

Yes, you mock the idea.
The idea that peace may be made by mortals without war.
I should have said nothing, but then
there'd be none of this
ruderous playful joy I feel.

I claim the inheritance of those who trouble
their own house with servants
sent from god, God, the, of thee ineffable name,
who created
messaging means,
literal winds of servitude, ministering spirits,
sent to serve as useful urges to do or say
for them who are about to be
klero-nomeno, clearly named, heirs of soteria?

Useful for what, old man?

Guides, GPS apps in your knower, like a chron job reminder,
do this now, in this situation.
There are gear trains, wheels in wheels, seeing always
at once, if you can imagine,
molecular machines with minds of their own…

watch I say, I just smile, Mona Lisa trick, I look you in the ear,
see what I said. Not in the eye, look fifteen degrees left.
I see as
life and truth, the way they work together
making up minded beings for
narrow focus function,
on off signal send signal accept, receive deceive

connect, reject, find no fault that is not over-seen
as being no hinderance,
to the whole truth.
- It all started with this woman I know is a Trump
- and Joel Osteen fan…
- she greets me, happy, bubbly about how funny Trump
- is, she says,
- he says treehuggers caused the fires, so Californians can pay
- to put them out.
- AH, she pierced my concentration on the point I was making
- What did you say,
- and If, if, if I had said nothing…

A wife, an old, mother of 3.5 children, from three
******, all men are ******, she believes,
so,
why do I kick against them? Hmmm. let me lie
and say
because it is the will of God, my heavenly father, she say,

sashay sassie lassie -- old and grey and given to rants
on Trump being God's choice…

not yours, you tree-hugging *** smoking hypocrite hermit

praying in the wilderness where no man can hear.
Shunning bully pulpit sycophantom spirits
leading silly, in the modern sense, wombed men away.
- I don't say
Peace as made in me, purges hate spewed my way,
venom weakens me a while, then
the idea of stomping snakes,
strengthens me.
I walk away.
This is joy. Winning by default, having nothing to lose.

--------------
True crazy, it seems, a certain spirit is on a patience building
assignment,
angels assigned to poke and ***** and itch like a hair shirt
on an Iberian saint in shining armor.

Have ye no armor, naked ape? Is this not the same as nekkid,
are ye not ashamed,
not even a scapula to hide the demon's thumbprint?
Is this a witch of the west living
for soothing sayings, yet

she mocks my smile, and sneers a wish for my good day.
- I don't say
shall we condemn the claimer to
God's first be-atitudenal blessed class,
Peacemaker, are you allowed to
mock the peacemaker, raise waving serpent subtile digits,
bow and mock as
Protesting Missionaries mock singers of silent songs called
prayers?

Yes, thank you. I did say.

A new world
with new eyes
this is a lucky experience.
to be able to start new
in a world that has been around
forever.
yet everything
the moon
the trees
the stars
my world
my moon
my trees
my stars
have changed
its gotten rounder
grown taller
shined brighter

To forgive and forget
but not completely.
remember where you came from
remember people that changed you
learn from those mistakes.
learn from those successes
don't forget them
they shaped you as a person
and some of those aspects
will never change
but don't let them deter you
from reaching the dreams
you wish to pursue now

Change is a blessing
as much as it is a hinderance
The ways it changes you
hinders the way you once knew
the way you knew to run your world
your new world.
with your new eyes.

I am so lost
Wandering here and there.
Until I met you.
Wanted to become one..
Saw those two  magnificent
Entrance  leading to your Soul.
Round yet Oval.
Assymetrically Beautiful.  
One Clear the Other
with Slight Hinderance.
As the Sun Rays hit
Saw the Pure Whiteness
Blinding me for ever.

You hurt me and you didn’t even know.
Not knowing how to comprehend me can hurt me even more
And not knowing that this unrelated person is my unrelated problem
has caused a hinderance with their unspoken words.
A smile, a touch that’s all it took to turn away
not taking a second look as you walk to her
with your arms open wide,
regardless to the person who was already there
with their arms prepared to break to comfort you.

But your disregard to this leaves my words unanswered,
those unspoken words left forgotten,
buried somewhere deep down in order to remain
the person who watches on by in discomfort…

Bless these hands
Protect the land
find the design of mind is soul’s reminder that we are but a twinkle in the sand
Whimsical impulses bombastically pull and convulse until stimulation ignites the tribulations of ego and the false
Yet in truth it is a revealing of time’s “bones”
Nature’s healing the dealing of aches and moans generations concerned with the sounds of their groans than the balance of tone
Perhaps we actually become aware when we’re alone and see the illusion as a ride on the tide of infinity and not a hinderance to our divinity
And that at least in this dimension nothing is permanent and only change is the constant  that gravity and reality proceed from

Basked by the hedge of sanguinity
The lead role walked on through 
Trails of trivia in casualty, but elegance
As we made our way through corridors
Testing potions in accordance to patience
There was always a goal to be arrived
Even though a mind or two had quit
The morning sun shone through panes
Illuminating their collective third eye
The dream swept through like a charm
All throughout the halls in the monastery
And into the facility of knowledge
With its rosy brume, in an instant
The wheel of the colorful cycle had begun
Once again, to turn without hinderance
I swept the dust off my right cheek
And said to the fair maiden  
What if we never pass this way again?
She gently smiled
And hastened to the next lesson

All my friends got friends
Every single one of them
I’m afraid I’ll become a hinderance
As opening up might show my lack of strength
All my friends got friends
While all I have is them

So, how do I cope?
How do I reject jealousy when it wants to comfort me?
When it assures me that alliance benefits me?
When it asks me not to resist?
When it’s presence is so enticing, I can feel it’s breath down my neck, intriguing me more than scaring me
How do I cope?
When they get to experience life outside of our ensemble
Get to see corners my sight won’t reach
Because those experiences are unique to their memories
Memories I wasn’t invited or welcomed into
Memories that didn’t make sense for me to inherit
How do I cope?
When anger sneaks into my morning coffee
The heat burning my tongue and leaving me with a lingering bitterness
Stealing my voice and replacing it with its own to yell that only I can provide happiness
For so long, I’ve tried looking for different things from different people
Distributing parts of my trust to different pieces of the puzzles
So that their whole could make me but their individuality couldn’t break me
But what happens if I stopped at two?
What happens if only two pieces to the puzzle held that much power between them?
And why is it that bringing the two pieces of puzzle together left me so lonely?

I return once again
To my trusty pen
To pent out the storms
That brew deep within

But this time I find
I haven’t a rhyme
To execute my words
And represent my mind

So now there’s a worry
And some need to hurry
To prove that I feel
But feelings are blurry

Instead, I panic
My writing’s quite manic
Forgetting the real world
And all that’s pragmatic

Artificial hinderance
To prevent the ignorance
Is something i brew
My mind is carnivorous

i may not be brilliant
or particularly resilient
and entirely insignificant,

but now my words
have been taken with the songbirds
and i have no idea where towards.

i wont let their truth
take any innocent youth
when they could soothe.

i do not understand
how they were allowed to expand
past my imaginary contained land.

others have inflated such false veracity
that i didn't think there was a tendency
to believe words with such ferocity.

but none of it matters now
i must retreat and allow
the people to take their vow.

my confounded ignorance
has been a serious hinderance
in my search for a fair existence.

Little world inside my brain
I get lost there like stranded island survivors
And get lost in the spectrum of civilization
My mind is not the same
As the others
It's totally beautiful and a hinderance at the same time.

Take time to care
Always be there
The children need your guidance
Without you, there would be a hinderance in their progress
Teach them well
Encourage them to do their best
Uplift and motivate them
Show them that they can be a success