Dear Conscience

Dear conscience
Something isn’t right
Guiltless nights
Restless days
Skirting around humanity
Plowing through insanity.

Dear conscience
Teach me how to feel
Be it guilty, happy
Nervous or mad
I’m tired of empty
Nothing but numb ahead.

Dear conscience
Get back on your feet
You’ve been asleep for too long
Its time to wake up
Along with your cousins:
Passion, hopes, and dreams.

CHANGE

Changing fast

The world is crazy.

Weebles wobble

Dangerously close.

Changing quick

Running in circles

No more bills

No more taxes

The world is changing

One president at a time

So take a drink,

Sit back

Relax, wonder, experience

This wonderful change

Something new

Instead of old.

Where's Waldo?

Old Vices Return

I guess I'm going to have to keep wondering when you'll look back and face the real self you're letting wander in the shadows. You're refusing to trace your footsteps into reality and instead keep trudging towards what appears to be a selfish facade of indulgence. Like gluttony and lust, filling your plate too much and satisfying your very needs, you'll only end up alone and pathetic -- a perfect example of who you are versus who you could have been. Face your deadly vices, count them all on two hands, but don't dare look to me for help when your throat is clamping and you're beginning to choke. Perhaps speaking up with truth earlier would have helped you in the end. Instead, the filth lined the back of your tongue, making you the eighth vice on my list.

--dated 9/12/07... a look back to almost a year ago.

Infinity Speaks

Infinite Noise, Quiet, and Force.
Exploding, Imploding. Exploring.
A moment without words – expression.

The world revolving around the evolved.
Her presence echoes, quietly.
Singing… her music tells a story.

The waves that carry miles of barrier --
Language, time, and surf,
Continuously crash, recede, and repeat.

The sounds echo without much menace
A sound that soothes and reaches
To those nearby, eyeing the rising sun.

The warmth stretches its comfort and arms
Enveloping and holding the silence
Of anyone willing to witness the sight.

Becoming and destroying, one entity of force
Strengthening, Weakening, Being.
Creation at its peak -- an infinite voice.

False Days

this is a day of celebration.
we are of the bold and the free.
though
irony and its laughter plays
within these veins
for this is also a day i dread.

independence.
noun.
self-rule and self-determination.

bullshit.

From the Vault - April 2007

This present anxiety,

Like nails on a chalkboard.
The screeching sound,
A terrible product of friction.
Nervous habits,
Nervous laughter.
Laughing
When logic screams solemn.

This gnawing anxiety,

Shaking all over.
Unsure of what to do,
Unsure of what to say.
Thoughts
Flowing like water,
Into a bottomless chasm.
Rubbing away,
Creating a schism.
This throbbing anxiety,
Blacking out thoughts.
Scared to reply,
Scared to ignore.
This wicked anxiety,
Consuming it's prey.

all the while

the surrounding places have everything to say
lives pass through with stories to relate
and all the while, you stand
resisting against quicksand
inhaling the sadness that revels in and around
the madness of a sentient coma resounds
and all the while, you remain
resisting against constraint
emptiness embraces the lost and lonely
dissembling true emotion just barely
and all the while, you stand
resisting against all you can
a plethora of advice clouds judgement
compelling the heart to grow absent
and all the while, you remain
all this time, you've maintained
the heart that bleeds unwilled tears
the soul struggling to adhere
to the mind that sustains conflict
while life becomes the verdict
and breathing is the penance.
all the while, you grow distant.

losing time

a sum of genuine discern and practiced care
reveals a pretense between her hand and his
careful in witting words as well as plastered smiles
a tall entrance marks the shadow of a withering child
a crowded room will only contain lonely persons
with minds reeling of schedules, deadlines, and dates

after all this time, where do footprints fall?
tracing and erasing the moments recalled
a grain of salt is too much to swallow
when chewing on these deafening hallows

with combined effort there may be connection
but only briefly for time does not pause
for such trivial pursuits as friendship and love
quicken your pace -- you must run
towards the inevitable
no sense of smell or even sight
for time does not pause
for such trivial matters.

after all this time, where do footprints fall?
tracing and erasing the moments recalled
a grain of salt is too much to swallow
when chewing on these deafening hallows