Have Another Cigarette

When thought about, it's not complicated. But it plays on itself and makes it harder than I could've imagined. Like a drug, I'm addicted knowing full in well that it's not good for me. You, I continue to want to come back to. You didn't treat me right, but I suppose those feelings are mutual. I didn't hold up, but at this time, I'm just not me.

The shade of who I was lingers, and I'm a kid again. Discipline all lost, all gone. My perspective changes rapidly and I'm disappointed with myself. I fell into the trap that society so easily springs and I'm just another lost soul. The truth is, you can't do things for yourself. If you truly do, you're an asshole. You're living life by your stakes and claims and to others, it goes beyond rudeness.

You have to have a reason, a muse a purpose to change. Sometimes that's within yourself. Mine is on that level to a degree, but I've always and probably will always be inspired by others to be better. Not just those who I know and don't want to disappoint, but people who I don't know. People who I have never met. I believe in being good to others. Being righteous because of the idea of bettering the world. I have lost sight of that. Hope, flushed from beyond a last grasping reach. I'm stuck here now, unmotivated to be any different, any better than what I am now because it doesn't pay. It doesn't pay to be unselfish. It doesn't pay to try and be a good person. Is that something that I want to believe? Certainly not, but I can't even describe how upset I have always been when I've been the good guy, and it only got me last place.

I'm different now, I don't like myself. I'm everything I used to hate about guys. And yet, it's successful. It moves you ahead. Probably only in the short term, but the immediacy that we so crave and depend upon nowadays, there isn't much romance in playing the waiting game. Patience, the most important virtue can't be one because we refuse to believe in manifestation of such ideals. It's not now. It's not good. We're all beyond ourselves. The Facebook, the instagram, the text messaging. It's all so quick. It's all so on the spot. We stress ourselves out because we don't get a response. We create the worst worries in our heads and it leads to doubt and tribulation. We had it good and we gave it away for instant gratification. I'm as much bought into this new way of living as anyone. Perhaps more so than some and less than others, but no different. No better.

There was this idea of who I wanted to be. Who I worked at being. I wasn't rich. I was wealthy. A wealth of ideals and boldness. Of family and friends. Of romance and genuineness. In taking care of those in need and placing others before myself. I latched onto comedy, a laugh, a smile, my expense, your pleasure. I kept the inspirational self going to become a better person. A better me. But what ideas and why did I follow this path? I felt that one of the most important things to do was to be decent to others. Manners and heart felt gestures were what I wished all of us, myself firstly could live to be. That's a vision that's blurred and died off with the hope that fades on humanity and those who I have had faith in. This shouldn't deter me from being that person. That person who I truly am, but it certainly is a cruel and grueling test to face.

I was meant to do something great. I believe that whole heartedly. I have been given to many chances at life not to continue to impact those who I meet in some sort of profound way. I have done that in the short over years of leading young men and must not lose focus on the lack of gratification in the immediacy of what I do now. A sign, read years ago in one of the places where I learned the most read, "An obstacle is what you see when you take your eye of your goal." The obstacles that keep challenging me, must not be my focus. It is necessary to remain focused on my goals. And that's to be a better person, a better me.


...i sit at home and wonder why, oh i will never be free...

Missing, I Begin to Appear Missing

I can't say I know, or even pretend to. It's not there, but should be. The romanticism that I once found to be all it was about, is not romantic anymore. It's sad, it's rejection, it's a vampire in the mirror. My image is missing. It shouldn't be, but it's hide and seek with no winner. The hope is running and I'm walking behind it. Love isn't always fair and certainly isn't always there. You fake it till you make it, until making it is just faking it.

I'm out of control. I'm not myself lately, but I know who I want to be. I know who I was. I'm missing. In so many ways. I can't be this wait. Won't be this way. I say things that aren't who I am. Who I don't want to be. I deeper sleep into unconsciousness and can't wake. Excuse isn't excuse if there is a no to do. There's plenty to do. I scratch at the coffin top, an attempt to break free of the grave I've dug. It's budging, but just so much as to keep me interested. I'm torn apart, splitting myself in two.

I open up, and I need you. That's my selfish decree, lesser than yours and greater than yours. It isn't fair, and the maturity you'll learn in the next year will be as much as I learned in twenty minutes. Different extremes, but ideology that smells and feels the same. I clutch the slipping grasp of things to come. I use both hands but still struggle. The piano plays and my eyes shut. You're leaving. You're leaving me. I spin around expecting a look back. It's not there and never was. I chase you in my dreams and always have. You're everything I wanted you to be, just not yet.

Not everything that goes around comes around. I check my chest just in case. The vacuum of my heart sucks it all in. The bus stop, I wait for you to get off, to tell me differently. How could have things been so dumb. How could have it gotten so complicated. Not questions, but statements. Trivial is the pursuit of love by yourself because it's always two sided. You disguise it as you believe it needs to be, but your promises of compromise are just a degradation of oneself. Just letting go is the ability to face one less fear. You're on the downhill slide with the uphill speed. 

You keep things rolling, and rediscover who you discovered you were long ago. It's slow and fast and before you know it's there. It's here. Keep your eyes peeled, your mind will tell you when you're again reeled. Trust the danger and hold your breath. It isn't anymore, is never was, but someday, the same faith in God prevails as the same faith in you. It's fairytale, and your heart is stolen from the ominously strange affair of up and down. 

I hope, one day, I'm someone you'd met

Itch and Scratch Get's It, Oooh La La

A direction, a road to be traveled lies in weight. The situation, my own cursed mind doesn't mind. The course I wander at this point across path after path of possibility, of future. Stuck on top of the chain link fence, a matter of time before my belt loop breaks. A direction at that point, I certainly will head.

To defy gravity is too dismiss the rules. For that you have to be willing to let them all go, and still hit the ground. That then includes hitting the ground and not allowing it to suddenly stop you. At this point you're going to break through to the sky. Inside out becomes your upside down, or even worse, you're alive and not breathing.

To be successful is the ability to be subjective beyond all attempts at subversion. One man's trash is one's reality. You speak in the lies of this or that is important based on what you find moral, ethical or just cool. You've been exposed, predisposed into this now disposition of the mind and heart. Breaking that cycle is like leaping into a bottomless pit and knowing that it's bottomless. I used to believe in people more than most people ever could, ever have. That truth, that trust slips ever gradually between the holes in my grasp and it waters the garden of the seeds of tastelessness I've been succulently enjoying along with you. Faith in others, a rarely achieved expectation met is an avenue for success that's been detoured for years. I search through this torn soul, snipping the threads busted of inseam and buttons gone, cutting my fingers on the jagged zippers hoping that truths again become evident, that hope is the pivotal unlock in the keyhole of success to open the door of beyond ourselves.

We are a generation just the same as all those who came before. We pray for the younger to come while we prey for the older who went before. I pray for my own generation, for myself these days. Personal touch firstly and influence secondary. How many nights of sleep will it take to dream, to see a world bettered and with my imprint, my gallant impression upon it. If only isn't the decree of my battle flag. It isn't the catch phrase of my generation, but everyone seems to be saying it. To be a success in this matter is an over calculation on my part. Subjectively and personally, what if success is the ability to decide what you want to be when you grow up, and despite the cunning of your change of mind, or of that which influences, sex, drugs, money, you simply keep sails up and maintain course with the drive and tenacity to carry out through whatever you storm even knowing such a commitment may cost you to wreck. And perhaps, it's the exact opposite of that.

Live a life you deserve to have lived, by deserving to live it.