Always tearing and causing me to be ripped apart tumultuously in stairwells of caustic bereavement.
Jouncing around, not coming up with anything relevant to describe
each phase, as it’s encompassed in lightened knowledge of particular puzzles.
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Time is everlasting, waiting on sidelines, and we wantonly pass it by.
Becoming a toddler, learning how to live, eat and talk.Our personalities formed forevermore – mapping out our future, laying the roads to what we will someday be or do.Finding ourselves floundering through puberty, awkwardly, we shape our values as we stumble into adolescence and find we now have morals – we understand them – but…
Leaves falling within, bringing about recognition of life – the autumn it is in.
of achievement, never getting there – never reallysucceeding.There seems to be no success in life, it cascades down mountainsides, along with waterfalls – beautiful to see,but empty, unfulfilled, like me.There are no hopes inside, triangles push and clatterabout noisily, looking for a way out.Emotions caught up in tiny rapturous moments are dropped,let go of in…
Trundling amid black noise and blinding darkness,
Lining up against dangerous curves in absolute silence,hiding within deepest encounters of mindless acts ofsubconsciousness.Wasting no time, struggling to come to conclusions inrhymes.
Quickly scanning every corner, abyss, canyon within me, searching for answers I know I’ll never find.
Coldly stepping into dark ravines, wondering what I’m doing here, alone in an adjacent solo journey so far from home.Then just a whisper brings me back to my task of searching for answers and I begin again to traverse an inner universe, happily alone and serene.
Racing up and down scales of rhythm, enjoying the
in mind-shaping prose.Speakers fill my mind with their tones and sounds,creating an atmosphere from which I can evolve andbecome particles of my own poetry.
Falling into an avalanche of rocks,
beneath the earth.Wallowing existentially in pits ofself-pity and remorse.Covering myself with it’s particles,keeping me hidden inside of piles ofturmoil, unable to return to life.Positioning everything into lines,never aligning any of them correctly.Keeping sounds buried throughout life’sendeavors, finding no reason to unburyany of it.Solemnly giving me a self-preservationof sorts.