Jump Out (Of This Boat)

Do you ever feel alone in a world without someone
Yes, Its been far too long since I’ve felt that precious warmth
Do you lack the inspiration to get through life intact
Of course I have my moments, but indeed I’m set far back
I’m short on inspiration so these words will share their own
What kind of heart do I posses if it is still at rest
Its’ speech has slowed and eyes have closed its begging for a door
Which leads into your holding arms though they are yet found
Would someone please explain to me how life goes by so fast
I feel I’m short on chances and I feel I'm short on time
If only you were here with me to stop this beating clock
But you are just imagined, simply floating in my mind
I put a face onto you with everyone that I do meet
Affection is rewarded with a letdown and defeat
Presuming we are bound to be I’m holding onto hope
But soon I will begin to die and jump out of this boat

Winter Passageway

We would take trips to the library. The cold, bitter winter ground strangling our feet as we galloped through the snowdrifts, doing our very best at avoiding any straight path. I was younger then. Stories were more than words read from a book. They were a passageway, and inadvertently my imagination grew to the sound of their melody. If a story was a melody, then a book on tape was a song. And its voice sang louder than any precious childhood memory. Of course I sang along. My mind danced. My torso sat contemplating what was being read. How on earth could such a simply written story be presented so beautifully? Exaggeration is the key you see (I found this to be true). Their emphatic voice would spring out like Sir. Jacks head sprang forth from a certain box I once saw. Full of surprise. Full of spite. Their words kissing my thoughts. My imagination aspiring to the beautiful melody.

Growing up in this wintered state had its gifts. I became a fascinated child of snowmen and Christmas trees at an early age. The countdown began as October ran away. Red and green strands of paper intertwined; each day one was ripped away, revealing a closer connection to my appreciation for toys and candy. A shorter chain to be slowly disassembled. A symbol every child understands and is drawn into without confrontation. Living those days, so young, time would drag on for years. Every moment lasts forever to a mind where life seems to have no end.

Far Too Much Of Nothing

When I close my eyes I see far too much of nothing. I guess this is why I often feel restricted to take action in anything; because my eyes are always closed. Eyelids down, holding tightly to their gripping fashion. The problem is, in the seldom chance of alertness, my eyes open to see just as much uncertainty. I may notice opportunity, transferring vision to thought, yet action is suppressed as if it were never called upon in the first place. What a monster I seem to have created.

Pulled from long ago.

The Writing Vault
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Excitement of new opportunities has been devoured by life yet again. when will it cease? i actually thought this would align without being denied of me; lord knows that won’t happen for ages.

i absolutely feel undeserving of such an offer, which causes desire to acquire such a beautiful opportunity all the more. what a difficult action to pretend it all means nothing to me, in order to preserve the “wisdom” of the respected minds. what a difficult task it is to feel so close to someone, yet in your mind be pushing them away.

as perfect as it may feel (how again am i anything but wretched through those eyes), i am told to vanquish any such emotion or desire. patience through time is harder than anything else life forces us to battle. i don’t want to hurt myself by allowing this to pass. i don’t want to be forgotten.

Happiness And Other Jazz

Life is an eternal quest of purposeless jitter. We can never find what we are looking for, or what it is that puts ease to our minds. I often find myself wondering when I will be content with my life. It's a troubling thought, knowing happiness is not a destination but rather a long process of bumps and turmoil. "Experiences shape who we become", I always tell myself. But what if who we become is a senseless, distasteful, old cringe with a wasted mind and a tormented stare.

Waves go up and waves come down. Sometimes I feel stuck somewhere in the middle.

Mind Control

We always want what we do not have... well at least I do. Especially now. Being alone causes wonderful dreams which will probably never actually happen. It's quite depressing when you think about it. At least it is for me when I think about it.

The thing is, being alone and feeling the great need in not being so, brings on thoughts and memories of times when you weren't alone; when you weren't so down on life. And then you get to thinking that maybe nothing better will come along; maybe that was your one chance at being relatively content, despite the negations which ultimately brought on the downfall of the relationship in the first place. But you forget about those things; the things that caused so much division and grief. When you are alone, those things start to mean less and less. Because you settle. Because you are desperate and want to be near someone so unbelievably much. Why is it so hard to be alone? Why is it so difficult to live life without companionship? It certainly is a self-civil war learning how to spend all of your time with these mind controlling dreams.