Compromised Focus

Screaming in basements to avoid being heard,

Typing out thoughts so patience doesn’t have to be tested,

It’s all become so routine;

Figuring out how to make the loudest noise yet remain concealed

In an absent-minded and loud world.

Exhausted at the resonance of criticism,

Flattened by the glare of chosen ignorance,

My disdain for sleep is tested by my stronger desire to avoid people.

While my body will be in far worse pain if I lay down uselessly,

It’s better than the pain of being surrounded by people

whose interactions feel like they’re done out of duty rather than hospitality.

Why believe you’re in a group when the people make you feel lonely?

Why sit next to someone who seems as though they’re deaf to your voice only?

I’m confused as to what relationships are actually supposed to do,

Especially since people seem to favor conversations on screens involving icons and abbreviations,

Rather than human engagement and sound.

Why should I see you in person when I can see you just fine on my phone screen?


Don’t waste your touch You won’t feel anything

 

 

Be our Guest, but Please Don’t Put our Patience to the Test

Some may think that “overstaying your welcome” is impossible,

I simply believe they haven’t encountered a bad guest.

For their unwilling ignorance, I both applaud them as much as I’m concerned for when their perspective may be changed.

While I enjoy & unashamedly encourage generosity,

And I won’t lie or imply that I haven’t been taken advantage of.

Unfortunately, I would sometimes receive warnings;

But then I would extend further generosity or kindness as if to prove a point,

To prove that the person or peoples in question were perceived wrongly.

After all, experience isn’t always the best judge.

In our current era of history,

It seems as though societal displacement is that of an epidemic.

Unfortunately, and yet unsurprisingly, it has no bias or specific target.

Whether you’re age 4, 44, or 94;

You may be either knowingly or unknowingly displaced in some degree,

Even worse is the fact that mental displacement is sometimes more severe than physical.

No matter what kind of displacement,

There are lessons to be learned both during and after it;

But it’s very difficult to see that.

I won’t stop giving,

But I tend to wait a little longer before I offer anything.

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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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8 & 1-Half: Conscious Streams

I’m ready to not go,

“when do you leave again?”

The question doesn’t irk me,

really;

The only occasional irritation is that of its apologetic nature that its often asked in.

The amusing, while also irritating, aspect of it is when whining follows.

I’ve actually needed more alone time in this process than I expected,

I even felt guilty initially.

The guilt is pretty much wearing off,

But it still tries to get ahold on me.

Don’t long for me as though I’m a possession you window shop for,

I bid you all.

If you’re going to “miss me”,

Let those exact words miss my ear drums.

You know how to find me,

Sometimes it’s a practice of timing;

It could also be determined by my availability both circumstantial & otherwise.

This isn’t just a physical move,

Moving time has come on more levels than one.

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I Won’t be Around

I miss missing you, I used to think distance was a curse; But now I love how far you are from me. The distance you are from me though, Is relative when considering how far out of reality you live. If you aren’t blind, It’s a wonder if you’re eyes even exist. Delusion is your middle name. Illusions are all you seek in relationships, But unfortunately it isn’t all you’re offered. I don’t have time to name you, Just the way you forgot I ever came around; Thankfully I didn’t know how to be present when it all came down. But when it blew up, Like gas to a book of fiery matches, It was both obvious & vague how you wanted things to be. Different than my usual routine, I’m walking forward instead of running away. Some thought I had signed up for a marathon, But I quickly took off my shoes & sat down. My calloused feet are becoming soft again, And the blisters bleeding aren’t even the worst experience with how I feel. I used to beg for people to forget me, Then I found they did it perfectly well on their own. I used to be grateful for this discovery, And then suddenly; As sudden as a change in weather, I started caring & it hurt a bit to swallow this glass shard of a pill. I wish I had more to say, But that’s how it’s been these days. My mind will race with the youthfulness found in a pack of stallions, Charging forward amidst passion & surpassing logic quite often; And then the audience is rendered deficient in attention, And suddenly the wall is proven to be solid when my bloodied mug recovers from the most recent collision. ——————————————————————