"introspective" poems
‘I am…’ 'Or am I’? Who can say?
‘A posteriori’ leads the way
For the extra and the ordinary
Axiomatic sway,
In the gravity of corollary,
‘A priori’ interplay
Ataraxic overlay of anxious automation,
As the innocence of dissonance delay.
Practicing semantic contemplation,
In willfully prevenient interpolation,
Civilly disobedient in expediently seeming disarray,
Forecasts in vague extrapolation
Contrasts the millennial contagion
Already underway,
Filling nihilistic voids with particles in waves,
To interpret dreams of Freud to free Oedipus’s slaves,
A degreeless scholastic who never misbehaves,
Simulated humanoid dramatic in the affect that he craves,
Inflating linguistics in acrobatic raves,
A thespian who plans conation with legacy engraves.
The probabilistic determiner of cosmogenous debates,
An apperceived inquirer of qualitative states,
Inspiring proprietor of dismality abates.
Challenging aporia as epistemic oscillates,
Stoically, heroically, ‘one’ who amalgamates,
Circling the infinite in hermeneutic calibrates.
An escaped prisoner from depressive disillusion,
Of an introspective extrovert who finds solace in confusion,
The personable recluse fighting an illusion
Breaking down the nuances of every institution.
Calculating consequence as time goes to infinity
Revolutionary commonsense of principal utility,
An opinionated adversary,
to the realist without evidence,
Theorizing in futility,
Stipulating every sense leading to the virility of the pretense that dominates community.
Divergently converging all the efforts we’ve personified,
Inadvertently submerging old traditions that unethically were codified,
Hastening the urgency for purging that which cannot be modified through the merging of the certainty that will no longer coincide,
Stationing the levies to finally stem the tide,
Of periodic enmities disguised to be necessities so blatantly deified.
Observing moral sentiments, perched upon eternity,
As consequential regiments are expounded universally,
To unstratify the residents indiscriminately
And identify quantum elements spiritualistically,
Changing collective behavior individually,
Socializing constructs in joint ventured logo therapy.
Nov 16, 2018
Nov 16, 2018 at 8:07 AM UTC
Can you feel all the suffering, can you see it?
Stop embracing the hate of your own humanity, just quit it
Why all the hypocrisy?
Challenge your democracy
Aim for enlightenment
Fight against all ill torment
Oppression, alienation, inequality
The government's manipulative utilities
Explore your human aptitude
Your mind and your magnitude
Because passion is power and
You can make all evil cower
Work to open your third eye
Don't cry or comply, but rather ask "why?"
Empathy and compassion are most important
Without them, moral principles remain impotent
Our world is nothing compared to the entire universe
We are so small, egoistic, and it's getting worse
Focused on all of the wrongs ideals
Creating terrible and false ordeals
Our world is cruel and mean
Too many people die hungry
There's no such thing as equality or true justice
It does not exist in this realm of consciousness
If only we could shift the system and our ways
Then things would continue to fall into place
But change is virtually unachievable
Especially when entities with just intents are inconceivable
Human beings are clueless, trapped in a trance
Don't let yourself fall victim to your ignorance
You need to expand your knowledge and your perspective
Aim to be more pensive and introspective
Challenge absolutely everything you are told
Form your own beliefs, don't let your mind be controlled
Remove yourself from conformity and complacency
And you'll realize a multitude of problems, that I guarantee
*You can't trust anything
Hear what I'm saying
No you cant trust anything
Believing is damaging
Creating is everything, it's promising
Stop adhering to societal norms
Why do you conform
To all that
The government tells us
All that society spells for us
Why don't you realize
Wake up from all the lies
The world is an intricate place, that you can't replace
But you can change your ways and your pace
Create some displacement in the system
Stand up your rights
And what you believe in
Be genuine
Imagine
Not one person, thing, or system
Can tell us, control us, conform us*
With enough minds open and motivated
We can help those oppressed and alienated
We can change this race for the better
Let's all work to be that kind of trendsetter
Come on, let's start a movement
So we can see some real improvement
In our world, our ways, and our wisdom
But most importantly in the system
Apr 18, 2013
Apr 18, 2013 at 3:29 PM UTC
Softly seductive, some solvent serenity
Under unbelievable umbrella unlimited
Basking baked, both bonafide believers
Making music more meaningful, memory's made
Intellectual, introspective, incalculably impervious
So **** said sits salted, suspecting supplantation
Soon silly slips said summarize serendipitous
Indefinitely inplosive, internalized into intangible inflagrante
Viciousness voided, vague variables vital
Eroticism enduring, end erit empathy
Feb 16, 2015
Feb 16, 2015 at 9:46 AM UTC
It’s 6:15pm. Peter, Anna, Sophy and I are studying in the common room of our suite.
“We need to get serious,” Peter whispered, but there was no subject in the declaration, so I was left confused and uncommitted, “about getting serious,” he clarified.
“I’m not sure I can get serious about a guy who doesn’t separate whites and darks in the laundry,” I say, gently.
“No,” he said, shaking his head in brief vibration, “we need to get serious about DINNER.”
“Oh!” I said, maybe a little too relieved.
“Ha!” He chortled, “YOU overthink everything!” He said, nodding his head up and down to prove it was true. “And speaking of laundry,” he continued, seeing me start to open my mouth, “the other night YOU asked me if your pastel purple ******* should go with the whites or darks - so I must be an EXPERT!”
I laughed at the idea of his laundry expertise, sailing in from out of the purple like that, it was haywire. “Well,” I said, becoming introspective, “I didn’t know you’d hold onto that question like a grudge,” I said, in quiet, wounded accusation, “from now ON, maybe you should stay as far away from my ******* as possible.”
“What are you two grousing about NOW?” Anna asked, looking up from her computer. “You guys are like an old married couple.”
“True THAT.” Sophie said, like a judge right before knocking her gavel to finalize a ruling.
“We weren’t arguing!” I said, looking around confusedly. I looked at Peter, who was smiling broadly, “Were we?”
“Nope,” he said, wrapping his arm around me in a bearhug, “we were flirting.”
Sep 22, 2022
Sep 22, 2022 at 2:43 PM UTC
Be open-minded and admit the possibility
That some things are objectively wrong
We all live in a constant state of gray area
I see you pretty often, maybe once every week or so
For a moment our bubbles come very close to overlapping
But they so far have always held firm
Which is, in one respect, kind of amazing
Yet in another, to be expected
Our bubbles are made of rubber and concrete
Our lives are so different - we’re separated by
Class, gender, age, ethnicity and health history
Different in almost every way you could imagine
Save for location, which again is amazing
If we ever step out of our bubbles one day
And I actually hope we do
It will be uncomfortable, I imagine, and also
Potentially dangerous for both of us
But it could turn out great
Most people ask themselves I guess
Whether it’s worth the risk
And say no and they probably make assumptions
And I so far haven’t made too many about you
Although to make none is impossible and so of that I am proud
Some things might be wrong even if
Everyone does them and even if
You or I do them constantly
Without an ounce of guilt
It’s possible anyway
Jul 28, 2018
Jul 28, 2018 at 7:25 PM UTC
the sun that ache into my skin,
it beats the heat of the summer days
the sound of the crickets intrude,
birds are reaching up high,
clouds scatter across the blue sky
will feelings change?
will they?
i gather my attention,
to my introspective words
pulling the thread in my head,
but
as the train goes passing by
the clock move closer
to what matters
the most,
&
confiscates the time
that I stood by.
Aug 11, 2018
Aug 11, 2018 at 12:15 PM UTC
There's no mystery about the ******* ******
Open up
insert instrument
rub it about until
sighs, screams, moans, groans, scratches, scents, and innocence escape.
Pretty simple, the ******* ****** Same with the ******* ****
It should feel real good or something is going wrong and you'd better check with the someone within.
The resting ****** Well, that is a daily mystery of "how do I feel about this?"
'cause there's a whole bunch of weird nebulous crap going on in the daily world leaving you feeling ****** by the end of the day.
But solve that mystery with something to enlighten and entice the mood and you may just awaken
that ******* ****** again.
(The ******* **** Well he just seems like a less introspective, more alert and easy up, easy come little fellow. Lucky chap.)
Mar 11, 2016
Mar 11, 2016 at 6:08 PM UTC
How can we attain the perspective of the introspective
When detectives aren't respected
By crowds drawn by clowns
Made vicious by the wishes
Of Hades with rabies
In order for humanity to progress
We must all consider our place in society
Emotional disclosure accelerates our human race
Until externalizations halt our momentum
We begin to drift
Discourse drifts toward absurdity
Absurdity drifts toward reality
Reality drifts toward Hell
And accepting reality
Means accepting the bullet's laughter
while it drifts through the innocent
Then we must accept where our souls have drifted
So our minds drift into fantasy
We wrap our abandon ties around our neck
And go to work
We live in a society
Where not giving a **** about what others think
Is actually encouraged
Yes, exchanging ideas can hurt
That's whiplash as we stop drifting and jolt in each other's direction
But communication
Takes detours to dead ends
As honesty and compassion
Elude us
In a self-perpetuating cycle
When education's only purpose
Is learning how to ****** each other
Before we know too much
Our species drifts toward extinction
Jul 18, 2017
Jul 18, 2017 at 5:51 AM UTC
I find myself looking for words.
Combinations of feeling
I did not know existed.
I cannot breathe.
I struggle for them
& make myself a fool.
The world was so big before I met you
& now I'm grasping for it,
unable to recall it's delusion
as I am pulled into your orbit.
Out of drifting dreams.
My mind goes blank
& all I can see
is the dark galaxy that is you.
Alien, beautiful & natural.
You haunt me.
I nearly never believed so big,
& you infiltrated this complex defense
to show me what's been missing.
Half crazed by the loneliness of space
I cannot articulate.
Another form of art I hesitate to express.
I do not trust myself
that it will not be perfect,
fluid,
each stroke of the tongue
like the brush fear failure.
I want to show you all I see
beneath the stars.
Let the brilliance of the moon shine through.
But she is stuck.
In the cloud of curious awareness,
my eloquence cripples me.
How many things can I say
before I lose my grace?
& I dread
the company of simple minds
who cannot love stories.
So eager,
your patience holds the hand of the clock.
I want to watch your eyes glow
lit up by the music from my lips,
& I want to be carried off
by all you reminisce.
I can't believe in chance
when a soul like yours comes to court.
Thrice even.
I am challenged by the core of you.
Inquiry.
Things I cannot see
& stopped looking for.
If I take no notice,
I will not be seen.
Drawn into someone else's dreams,
Abandoning me.
I forgot how to identify
with my kind
so that I did not lose me.
Then I rusted over.
The great machine locked away
while the shows went on
in Technicolor.
Introspective
losing passion & luster inside this shell.
How you found me,
only body in forum.
You took me out to play.
Engaged, stalled, oiled & sparked
Life.
I am reminded of a better me.
An affirmation,
of my Dominant heart.
His voice,
the coaxing in my womb to Be.
Away with closed up, dying to shine.
You wanted to show me off,
pretty girl.
I remember being a Goddess
& shattering the abyss around me
with heart & raw warmth.
The fire of honesty.
Unsatiated wander bred in me
& I held nothing back.
Now the world is clay
& my garden to build upon.
Train me to grow.
I am inspired to be stardust.
Permeate every corner of this heavenly body.
I find myself the eager student of Aquarius.
Jun 23, 2015
Jun 23, 2015 at 1:50 AM UTC
Dear ************
This is the hateful letter. This is the one in which I tell you how much of a ******** you are and how I am so much better off without you, so thanks for leaving me. It was the best thing that ever happened to me. This is where I tell you that you’re an idiot if you ever thought I depended on you for my self-worth, because I don’t need you for validation, and I never have. I was trucking along just fine before you came along, and will continue to do so without you, so you can go **** yourself.
This is the part where I call you a ******* for saying all those things you said. If you weren’t trying to hurt me, you must be an idiot to think that it was a good idea to say what you did. I’ll tell you that it ****** me off to realize that you obviously didn’t know me as well as I thought you did. It ****** me off that our communication was clearly not functioning like it should have been.
And I’ll tell you how ******* livid it makes me that you just sat there and thought and thought and ******* thought about this while I was still writing ******* poems for you. I am angry at how oblivious I was, which I also blame on you. I blame you for being so introspective and quiet, for needing to think important issues through in your head, only with yourself, before you can voice them, and I am angry because you thought and thought and ******* thought and made a decision that was logical from the inside of your head and you were confused by my reaction because, surprise! Owen’s-head-logic is not the same as Katie-is-being-broken-up-with-logic. And that’s where your speech faltered, where I stopped saying the lines that you wrote for me in your script, and that’s when all of those stupid words came tumbling out of your stupid head and things continued to not go as planned and it all eventually cumulated in this: zero contact. I know it’s not what you wanted but you’re a ******* If you were smarter about it, we may still have been talking, but you said all of the exact wrong things. So I am angry at you for hurting me with your idiotic words, but I am also angry at you for pushing me away. I may have liked to still be talking to you, but all of the **** that came out of your mouth just ruined whatever chance we could have had, so way to go. You are a ruiner - and so concludes the part where everything is always your fault.
This is the part where I understand where you’re coming from, I would have broken up with me too if I were you, I know it’s hard for you to put your words together sometimes, I know your (brutal) honesty only comes from a place of love, I know you love me, I know you miss being my friend…and so on.
That last section makes me sadder than I am willing to be at this point, so I think I’ll stick with anger for the time being and you can **** my nonexistent **** ************
Your Ex-Girlfriend.
Jun 22, 2010
Jun 22, 2010 at 6:33 PM UTC
A bridge from colloquial to courtly fare
A span where idealism and fantasy pair
A railway to the existential realm; celestial lair
A conduit through which rational discourse can flare
Deep medium to: forage, inculcate, and inform
Broad brush to paint rare beauty; sculpt surrealistic form
Incisive scalpel to surgically alter the societal norm
Delicate utensil to educate on civility and decorum
A literary ***** a prosaic construct
A mechanism our syntax to deconstruct
An analytical tool; an observational viaduct
Introspective milieu to reduct; extrovertive sphere to reconstruct
A semantical edifice that aspiring wit, lofty orations implore
An experimental structure gramatical anomalies to explore
A thematic repository in which concrete ideas, abstract notions to
pour
A vernacular cathedral butressed by an idiomatic core
Jul 25, 2012
Jul 25, 2012 at 6:37 PM UTC
I would live all my life in nonchalance and insouciance
Were it not for making a living, which is rather a nouciance.
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My dreams whisper sweet things
And surreptitiously speak to me
My waking words are rote and empty
-spilling with hypocrisy
Yet their comforting embrace
Simply bring smiles to my face
Filling my mind while I'm asleep
They send messages lined with silver That vanish when I wake
To bring about a dull and listless form Who is shaping my last mistake
You see I wake in a storm
Simultaneously feeling constrained
To my bed
I can't get up while there's no filter
For the rush of noises in my head
If there's a difference between
What you know and what you believe Then why is it not as easy
To imagine my reprieve
Why can I only experience a vivid life
While I sleep
Then once again wake up
To this Fear Doubt and Anger
Choking me
Invoking me by pushing buttons
Of their endless promises
To for certain be found in youth
While my vision is livid sinning
Contemplating and pinpointing
Who too close is uncouth
You sit there and feed my veins
An explanation to your lies
With all the compromised
Washed up water
Memorized methods
Coping mechanisms
While it's your heart that remains
Aloof
Then sit there in desperation
Reiterating as if you know
The deep introspective answer
When any fool can see your wisdom
Is wrought in the vanity
Of a talented dancer
If you lost the truth of sanity
Would you retrieve it for ten cents
Or would you search inside
Before hiding from the confines
Of a necessary moment
I'd rather die or sacrifice my life
Before cowering from what's hidden
The message so raw
That counts your flaws
Like there was some proof
In what is missing
But ultimately I guess
It comes down to the small decision
The chip on my shoulder
That became a boulder
When I reached out
For my inner vision.
So while I feel so disparate and alone
In the trenches losing my senses
Will I be the hero or be the villain
Will I let the poison make me it's toy
Or take the penicillin
*Some days my life feels as heavy
As that last breath left over
From how loudly I shout
But I guess a general synopsis to you
Of how I sometimes feel inside
Is a decent first step to waking up
While I'm down and out*
Jul 3, 2017
Jul 3, 2017 at 4:53 AM UTC
Hildegard of Bingen
the most musical abbess
of the year 1097 a.d.
met with Jung the unconscious detective
and Ginsberg the howling poet
for lattes at some Starbucks
in a vibrating city
on a shimmering afternoon.
Angelic minuets keep flowing,
effervescing through my chakras
like tonal champagne . . .
the glowing femme declared.
Beams of ethereal light infuse me,
tsumanis of energy tempt me
to dance right out of my habit.
Ignoring the possibility
of seeing a naked nun drink coffee in public,
Alan mused behind his hornrims . . .
I get what you mean
like I have felt the same perfusion of joy
watching cans of peas and ayahuasca
dance with talking bananas
at the A&P; Market near my pad in Brooklyn,
can you dig it?
Still suffering from his Freudian hangover,
Carl reframed them both . . .
Any conclusions or convictions
drawn from such experiences
may not self-verify because
your introspective identifications
attempt in vain
to concretize the amorphicity
of decentralized psychic sensations
which reach conscious awareness
only at the expense of extension.
What did he just say?
Hildegard asked Alan.
I have absolutely no idea,
the portly poet answered
as he doodled an intricate mandala
on his hemp napkin.
Jan 1, 2012
Jan 1, 2012 at 12:21 AM UTC
*is it like a feather
is it now or never
our faces are neglected
our souls are introspective
gravity collected
space and time dissected
water is our mother
the earth is our shelter
a blessed sacred elder
lilikoi is my favorite fragrance
tastes like innocence
and you must respect her
amazing feelings to select
the headwaters call collect
protect our sacred mother
dance upon the other
call upon the winds
feel them on your skin
remove the falling stones
that cover up your bones
rest in love unknown
concentrate until it is shown
phone calls steal our happiness
accidents dent our marriages
darkness is our daughter
streaks of light and color
falling stars kept captive
we plant them in our yards
keepers of the spark
sisters of the sparrow
made of light and yarrow
feathers flicker softly
all our woven glory
givers of the heart
singers of the dark
if you wish to hear them
make yourself a part
of the symphony
lifetimes of abandonment
oh so quick to fill you in
on all the tragic stories
what if we ignored them
and stayed present in this moment
filling up our cups
simple days spent with simple eyes
kindness supplies our alibis
respect is valued
like a stream in our hearts
we are dipped clean
threads of beauty
borrowed from the scarecrow
next lifetime you’ll become
another source of hope
ports of pleasure in our seas
forever we are feeling these
hopeless ropes tying up our antidotes
confounded sounds mounds of hope
stereoscopes and isotopes
poets freely speak
seek islands of wisdom
on stormy seas of chatter*
Oct 24, 2017
Oct 24, 2017 at 9:34 AM UTC
It's a shame how you must have aspired me to become the child you always wanted
in the months and days before I was born,
before reality had its chance to construct the person I would become.
when the happy news was first heard of a new child in a new world,
who would be brave and cheerful and kind
and above all sporty,
the kind that would make an impression,a born leader and dutiful follower
a proud patron of the family name.
We would have much in common and I would remind you of yourselves
at such an impressionable age
and I would achieve all you had hoped for.
But perhaps this is the great tragedy that parents stumble upon in this constant letdown of a life.
You were lucky that I was an easy child,never keeping you up at night and never causing trouble,
but the fact that I was lazy,introspective,morbid,
cowardly,unattentive,unhelpful,bookish,obsessive,
uninvolving and unsatisfied
made me realise how much I must have let you down.
I sigh too much,I read too much,I'm so full full of sarcasm that I cannot take anything seriously,
I never want to be the focus of attention,I never eat enough,I dont care about trends,
I dont care if people comprehend me.
I must be impossible to love.
Thats why I have decided to never have children.
They could never be what I would expect of them.
I could never love someone who I was ultimately responsible for,
someone who I could indoctrinate into my own idea of happiness.
Jun 28, 2012
Jun 28, 2012 at 2:53 PM UTC
I'm looking for a Neurotic Girl
someone who will break down before I do
someone who's not afraid to cry,as the tea kettle boils,
after telling me about her problems.
Someone I can worry about,and do unselfish things for, and offer some comfort to,
someone who depends on me for a change.
I'm looking for a girl
who isn't too confident in herself,even though she's wonderful,
at least in my eyes.
Someone who hasn't got her entire life sorted out, just yet.
Someone who'll realise that I can be a nice person, behind the facade.
Because these days I'm wandering
from party to party
from pointless
city centre venues
and all-too-familiar and contemptible
small town social haunts
and all I see and hear
are the attention-seeking, the unreachably friendly, the distant
and the involved
All swimming in mediocrity
If you'll pardon the fake sophistication of that last metaphor
And all I'm left to do
is wonder what it would be like
to find someone
who I could be Introspective,
Debauched and Nihilistic with
A nice Neurotic Girl.
But I suppose that would invariably lead
to some sort of responsibility
in my otherwise self-absorbed existence
I would have to pretend that I am a proper kind of person
for the sake of my fragile lover's much needed feeling of security
I would take it upon myself
to go out into the world
to keep a sort of balance for the both of us
spending headache-inducing hours
with people whom I cant stand
while she sits at home
and smokes
in bed.
Apr 13, 2012
Apr 13, 2012 at 7:10 PM UTC
Deep, somber, reflective pools.
Stirring by an ocean of blueish gray.
Vast as the mountain and all of its roots,
Clear and deceptive as the piercing light on a cloudy day.
Not flustered by the coming storm,
But troubled instead when it is blown off its course and swept away.
Unshaken by the torrential downpour of warming rain.
For cool inside they will ever stay.
Such pools as these are ripples away from some escape.
Yet when all other pools would've walked away,
They stir themselves and still remain.
Fixed and introspective.
Much like the tides which arrive anew with each coming day.
These waters rise and though they reach,
The wonder and bewilderment is never washed away.
From within such pools.
May 16, 2016
May 16, 2016 at 8:55 PM UTC
1700
To tell the Beauty would decrease
To state the Spell demean—
There is a syllable-less Sea
Of which it is the sign—
My will endeavors for its word
And fails, but entertains
A Rapture as of Legacies—
Of introspective Mines—
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And I did it once again.
Skin picked and shaven,
Cakey frosted ivory,
Faceless, nameless,
Plasticity contusion.
Littered in the detailed fractures of a swelling stem,
Those skeletal twigs of intangible incestual wings,
splintered in stacks underneath his bed.
Apocalyptic comfort found in the veins of what remains...
Pineal shame,
Puny white me,
Post-karmic, futuristic-retrospective cosmic plan, slowly creeps towards me and offers its long inflaming hand.
Cricket twitch, echoes in the distant introspective glitch of my momentary intuition.
A bitter drip on tongue descends,
Tunneled in an unwanted exploration.
That sour pitched cacophony uncomfortably sung,
Through the ghastly cold touch of a righteous cockroached thumb.
Repugnance,
Spreading the stain of an untouched soul,
Quicksand, morphing me into dust.
Devouring the white and into the red I rust.
Nov 24, 2016
Nov 24, 2016 at 1:40 PM UTC
I am an escaped prisoner from barred disillusion,
A personable recluse fighting the illusion
Of an introspective extrovert who finds solace in confusion.
I wonder how it is that I find optimism alone,
When collective pessimistic thoughts condone
The woeful tales that howl and moan.
I hear voices of people that aren’t there,
Yet find myself in calmness aware
Despite their tormented accusational affair.
I see ideals living and thriving out there
Even when apathy or indifference ensnare
Battered hearts and worn out minds in despair
I want nothing more than to ‘want’ so desperately
I hold onto desire so restlessly,
That I’ve tired the being of my entity,
I am an anomalous paradox captive to the sea
Where waters churn in active disharmony,
Yet comfort as it may my tranquility.
I pretend that I’ve already staked my global legacy
As if my words, thoughts, and feelings,
Have changed the world entirely.
I feel everything as I believe it should be,
Riding the waves of intensity
In emotionally humble serendipity,
I touch the stars in remote prose,
Wandering the vast expanses without close,
Wherever my mind goes, it goes.
I worry about the future of humanity,
As if I was merely here to watch observantly
From some unknown eternity.
I cry for those in silent pain
With fake smiles of disdain
Who dare not speak for thought in vain.
I am a quiet observer of the human condition
Checking and balancing sedition
Though never granting my submission.
I understand the fallibility of the mind,
Gathering as many perspectives I can find,
Theorizing everything to which I’m inclined.
I say it’s all relative but it’s all relevant
Prone to be dominated by the prevalent
Missing the subtleties that are heaven sent.
I dream when I’m awake through my ideals,
Even when they’re still just spinning wheels,
Hoping they gain traction as time reveals.
I try to be better than the day before,
As that’s the best way to keep score,
When the world has us compared to others so much more.
I hope my legacy is genuine,
I regret nothing even when I sin,
As time wears down my wrinkled grin.
I am only human, to live and to die,
That’s about all we can be or rely,
And honestly this notion breaths me a sigh.
Sep 16, 2018
Sep 16, 2018 at 5:11 PM UTC
Self-awareness
Personal doubt
Intuition
External guess
Introspective
Self-absorbed
Outgoing
Need for affection
Fashionable
Loves the mirror
Casual
Fears the mirror
Honest
Cruel friend
Considerate
Careful liar
Apr 22, 2013
Apr 22, 2013 at 2:13 AM UTC
Writing because of procrastination, that is what I am telling myself.
Writing because I have no other way to convey emotions, that is what I feel.
Writing without a reason, that is what seems like the truth.
I am lost again, stuck in a loop of what feels like clarity, into the same self-inflicted confusion.
Wishing for the ability to make my words into music, I stare down at my keyboard and try to play.
I know I wouldn't put in the effort to learn, but I just want to inspire myself.
Maybe by some miracle I can learn what I am doing in time.
For now I am mindless, only commands get me moving.
Yet if they involve work I often zone out for minutes on end in thoughts that mean nothing.
If only I knew all of you reading, if only I hadn't lost touch with the outside world to this mindless cycle that is the internet.
Without the internet though, I wouldn't be able to convey my thoughts, all of my friends would be here.
Hell, what friends would I have without the only place I can show who I am from so far away?
Always introspective, trying my hardest to see what is wrong.
People tell me I am fine, but at the same time, I am not content with who I am.
I want to be older, stronger, able to do things without aide, and being there for those who need me.
I feel unnoticed among my friends, and hailed as above others by my peers.
The cycle makes me feel as though my peers think I need encouragement to live, while my friends know I just need the strength to push past it.
That, or they don't care enough to ask, your friends are how you are in some ways I suppose.
Why am I writing so much if I don't need it to get by, is there some other incentive I am giving myself?
Some reward for not doing anything to change is letting me know about it?
I think this is just my emotions trying to give my brain a kick-start, but I am tuning out the messages.
I don't seem to care about some kind of structure in writing anymore, my care has bled out freezing me to a solid caricature of who I want to be.
Do I even want to publish this, and have it be known to people that I am struggling?
Whatever the case may be, I'll post it anyway, who really cares at this point?
Jan 11, 2014
Jan 11, 2014 at 7:44 PM UTC