Au revoir, à mon coeur et à mon âme

Walking pathways of death as respectful as one is able,

You find an occasional numb in the midst of being overwhelmed or unknowing of what to do and how to feel.

Faces of those who might know the area as home are illumined and regarded,

Faces of those visiting are studied as well out of curiosity,

And then those who are seeking a new home in this unfamiliar land;

They are the ones who you do your best to assure they have been seen,

While the world may seemingly pass them by.

In a world on edge,

Below ground can be a place to find peace.

When walking caverns that have become hallowed halls of history,

A certain stillness is found even when actively observing your surroundings;

knowing you’ve temporarily escaped the chaos and noise of society above.

In refining one’s self, you find that you also lose pieces of your “self”;

It makes you wonder if it’ll all be worthwhile,

or if it will be just another phase or season.

Something meant for a scrapbook rather than a defining step forward as a human,

Compulsion rather than immersion.

My critical eyes have been poked many times over,

But I believe the time has come to gouge them out.

For I’d rather gain knowledge blindly and objectively,

then have the privilege of sight but also the handicap of unneeded critique.

With bones dislocated, emotions suppressed or dead, and a mind rather empty;

What good would I pose as just another spoon fed oaf?

As I prepare to leave,

I don’t have a final destination.

As the mirror reflects a face that is familiar,

I don’t immediately acknowledge it as my own.

Maybe a shadow of someone I knew,

Or someone I’d rather forget I met.

Just a sketch of someone or something,

From a place no longer existent.

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From an Involuntary Beginning to an Inevitable Ending

Without even trying,

I’m most aware of myself

once another human being has entered the room I’m in.

Call this perpetual anxiety,

Or perpetual lack of privacy;

They don’t even have to notice I exist,

Let alone my presence,

But I’m often unexplainably compelled to leave.

Do we fear death because we don’t understand,

Or is it that we fear life because all we can understand is death?

For it seems fair & honest to say that no human being,

No one alive,

Before birth ever asked about or agreed to being born.

However, many people often ask to die

and some choose to take primary responsibility for it happening.

It’s as if we wish we had a button that could switch our lives on or off,

Much like the machines we revolved our lives around & often live through more actively than our mortal shell.

At least in this current generation,

It’s as if our phones are more alive than a fair amount of our youth;

The people are who supposed to “create our tomorrow”,

When they aren’t even alive today.

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New Versions of Old Ideas

You can only talk to yourself for so long,

No matter what could be the topic burning in your brain;

It’s far more exhausting sometimes just keeping track on your train of thought,

Than even the most awkward of interactions with others.

There is something about it though,

That glare of another persons eyes;

Burning through your back,

A look so familiar & yet unique for every situation.

Sometimes it’s a look of disdain or disgust,

It also could simply be a look of shock or listlessness.

But it sometimes just feels like the no vacancy sign is on worldwide,

And the only room for you is inside;

Inside your own head.

And you’d never think it could,

But it just might;

Now the one who wants to throw you out,

The one who doesn’t want you around is yourself.

Resign or Refine?

It’s all pretty simple.

Although, that’s only in word

where simplicity is found.

Ultimately, it’s a choice only oneself can make.

Just remember, that when you start to think you know;

You don’t.

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Vicious Awareness

In the midst of the storm,

I see the fog very clearly;

But the fog is all I see,

And my sight may as well be as clouded as the world before me.

Evidently my understanding is lacking,

At least personally if not fully;

But I must digress.

I appreciate that the weather can be inconsistent,

It’s one of the few inconsistencies in life that I’ve learned to enjoy.

Assistance unwanted is typically the first offered,

Or that’s what I’ve discovered occurs most often.

I’d rather not display more jadedness,

In the midst of our society that seems to at time thrive on it;

But the charade of being mute has lost its thrill.

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Half a Heart from a Whole Mess

Call it enlightenment or the end of denial,

It doesn’t matter to me;

But I find the mouse on a wheel running in my mind named Overt Analysis,

Is the primary cause of my depression as of late.

Identity;

it’s defined as consisting of many things & very few simultaneously,

It just depends who you ask about it.

In a society where most are more comfortable with truth being based on relativity,

As opposed to any sort of evidence or facts;

What do you expect?

Then again, I’m the one who thought my life would change “magically”

during my adolescence if I changed my name;

Because I had & still have a hard time identifying with or feeling as though I belong in my family of origin.

Biting my own white knuckles,

Suddenly the chokehold is looser;

Breathing is painful,

But only because I often forget to not hold my air in.

Nature thankfully has unsettling ways of reminding you about the importance of order.

I’ve heard people say they’re ready to die,

But I often wonder if it’s only because their afraid to live?

If they think being alive is just too burdensome;

If the grey in their eyes has become too strong a haze for their intrinsic light to break.

Oddly though, we often forget that we have some control & often more than we like to admit over our thoughts.

When you get caught in a dangerous water current,

It’s hard to make it back to shore;

But the irony of a lot of people who don’t make it,

Is that they were often warned before.

I used to chase after people who I thought ran away,

But it turned out;

At least with some,

They just didn’t ever learn how perceive when to go or when to stay.

When to shut up & walk away,

When to speak out.

Is anyone out there?

I used to scream that I didn’t care,

Mainly because it was unfair to admit

that I cared for many I later learned just didn’t want me to.

I don’t limit my caring any less,

For better or worse these days;

I’m just not so quick to voice it,

Or make it known.

After all, voicing cares & concerns to a faithless & careless audience;

Is equivalent in usefulness to yelling for help at a center for the deaf.

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Shaken Inside

Waking up from a tightened chest,

Almost allergic feeling;

Overwhelming & crushing.

My chest feels like a bomb ready for demolition,

And the detonator has just been pressed.

Why is it so common,

Children assume the monster scaring them is under their bed;

When often the most real monsters,

Is the one in their bed and the ones they’re related to.

Embers & rubble,

The building blocks of society.

Where are we going?

Why do we demand gifts,

When we can’t bother to refine or renew what we have already?

Lying down stiff,

Frozen in fear;

Afraid that I’m a part of a mass disease.

But grateful that my mind doesn’t surrender to this wonder,

For humanity in and of itself isn’t a mistake or disease;

But we must stop wondering how things became so grave in condition,

It’s just a matter of looking in the mirror.

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My Ashes

Reinvention of ones self;

A concept that sounds grand,

& yet can be so necessary

that it ends up being underwhelming.

It’s as if a time of change,

As something that is constantly avoided like the plague by some;

Is the most revered & hated time of a life all at once,

While also the one that often offers endlessly limited options.

Confusion is expected but all the same frustrating.

Possibilities or options taking form in a time of change,

Must often be something of our own creation;

We are given the power to choose to intentionally change,

And not just settle for an impending result

but rather allowed to participate in securing the best results.

If only the sometimes cultural as well generational escapist,

known as Effort,

Wouldn’t be so often found to be MIA or in a complete state of lack.

As I aim to slow down,

That I may sustain myself for the days & phases to come;

I realize that by slowing down,

I’m actually allowed to somehow move faster.

It’s only when I run the marathon,

rather than pacing,

That I find myself incapacitated & left with nothing.

But for now I will allow myself a time of stillness,

Not inactivity per se;

Just a needed release of control,

& reminder of my true nature as a finite & limited being.

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