Living on cushions of extra-sensory provisions, leaving nothing
Behind in drawers of misspent youth.
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Running quickly forward, never looking back, taking everything I own within my mind.
People are never allowed into my realms except when I allow it through a poem they once saw.
All energy consumed yesterday has been spent in idle wistfulness,
Off to outer limits, away from ordinary endeavors, we accept each dayas it comes, wishing afterwards that we had had it longer or could’ve done more with it.Wishful thinking takes up an inordinate amount of time, yet we continue expending our energy doing it.
Walking along edges of time, balancing the energy of life against death’s.
of familiarity through pain.Purposely denying advantages of the future, while letting go of the past and it’s failures.Echoing calls of yesterday, haunting minds of futility, dragging along fruitless tasks of living.Turning constantly away from degradation in life’s grasp, hoping and praying for a delicate, lace-like release, with a final resting place beneath death’s silken sheets…
Solitarily finding expectations to conform to, as figures of design combine and collate in patterns of intellect.
Missing them, reminiscing about them in moments of despair as we walk alone without them.Transpiring dreams following us in sleep, during the nights of awakening images, haunting our daydreams as well.
Wind furiously blowing through my mind,
of abstraction’s definitions and well-thought out verse.Rocking to and fro, being blown about with a will ofpoetical strength.Loving feelings surging through my being, filling itwith wonder at life’s behavior in each of us.Selecting barriers to keep us apart from another,yet wanting to be closer than ever to someone else.Opposite feelings throwing themselves around,confusing our minds…