I’m aware that. . .
I’m ramming my head against an empty wall.
I’m connecting all the random dots,
Just so they may, in patterns, fall.
They make insane sense to me
Spouting thoughts, like bubbles- so frivolous and joyful,
But infact, not letting the air be.
Not letting me be. Yet, I will. I am.
There is… pain in this awareness.
A starkness of reality.
A lucidity that makes me sensitive
A dense, compressed pressure that forces me to experience joy in the moments I live. Which is, every.
Several dimensions come hurtling at me as one,
Every life ever lived, every moment possibly considered gone-
They have returned to dust. A single speck-
The annoying grain of sand in my eye
A reminder so constant
That it manifests in me as a helpless smile.
Everything I have, my soul begged for.
Everything I want, it is my soul’s greed.
In integrating both lies the achievement of my succour
But really, all words are just my artificially constructed need.
I have no fear of tomorrow
As I have resolved my jumbled yesterdays
I have sifted through all my thoughts in a manner so thorough
That I sometimes joke about having lost my damned way.