a distant thought of
an intimate dream where
my life depended on me
putting emotions into words
everyday,
writing something
that makes me think
of myself as a decent and productive
human being
somewhere in the herd,
contributing
trying to raise the bar
of  critical thinking
in a thoughtless world
it wasn't so mechanical
so I would be on autopilot
but rather its a journey
a transformation,
always growing
perplexed yet again
at that thought of being
satisfied and optimistic,
looking into the mirror
vacillating as always
who am I today?
what will I get done?
being involved in another
facade or just flow
like water
lacking pretence,
waiting to be profound
over the baggage of rebound
longing both to be
known and hidden,
letting the significant moments
of my life
pass in little incidents
will I take these words
and dive in deep?
or simply give up
and go to sleep?

there's a fight
outside,
but also
within me
who will win today?
will I be cheerful or despondent,
hopeful or sans it,
I just wish to
win over yesterday
for it is
my enemy.

I feel like an open book
not just some words on paper,
with still some story to tell
trying to mean something greater.

the feeling forward
instead of backward
for a change,
triggering my body
into whole new
sensations;
as if I never had
any urges before
this time,
when our lips met
it killed
the innocence
of crawling
before running,
which my heart was,
faster with every passing moment
like a drunken semaphore
of hormones raging
inside and out,
the brevity of time
and of life
clearly out of the window,
for when we collide
to come together
instead of falling apart,
like this poem
not a reckless serenade,
then it hit me
a moment lost in creating one
when she fixes me,
would be a pity
to know we can't
go back.

just
trying
to
liquor
down
my thoughts,
replacing
them
for some
memories
that can't be
bought.