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



Misunderstanding Guaranteed


One hand open and the other closed in a fist,

Offensively prepared in order to defend.

Straightened out after almost dying,

But why does it have to be that mortality is the only reason to try and make sense?


I’m amazed at what my eyes have seen,

But all the more amazed at how limited I am in perspective and insight.

My trust is much like when I try to hold your hand,

Strained at best; painful and unsure, uneasily making an effort for something desired and also frightening.

Cold winds have become a pleasure in this life with almost constant muscle pain;

While the stiffness is enhanced, it reminds me of the privilege is to be alive.

Humanity is a strange activity more often than not,

The closer you come to dying;

You may end up feeling more alive.


Walking a sidewalk is more akin to swimming in a sea of misinterpretation,

Surrounded by floundering intentions and emotions.

Masked attendants stand at corners waiting to cross the street,

When they can’t even understand how to interact with another human being.

Any questions?

Don’t expect an answer.




Thrown Against the Wall

I could’ve sworn I was excited,

Or at least I was convinced that I was trying to be “excited”.

Whatever that means.

I find that I’m constantly battling cynicism,

But usually my passions are never effected.

But in the past years,

Even my passions have suddenly become quieter than the cynicism yelling in my ears.

Suddenly the tenor of Pavoratti is akin to this cynicism

that is choking the life from any passion I have.

And there I am:

Lying on my apartment floor,

exhausted from stress,

Angry about being disillusioned.

Ultimately, I’m reminded of the other things stressing me out

Only making me want to stay on the floor;

But I get up

and no I’m not fine.

But the only way I can get through the next hour or so, is by saying that I’m fine if someone asks.

Am I lying?

To a degree, yes.

But I’m more trying to silence this voice always telling me that nothing is going to work out.

I hate to say it, but I definitely have in ways resolved to faking it in order to make it.

But I want both stop and start again anew by saying:

I’m done.

Some things will in fact, not work out.

But some will, they will actually at times work out better than I could ever fathom.

From small and more temporal things,

To important and at times tangible significant decisions.

In a weird way, we wouldn’t have problems in life if weren’t able to find solutions.

The only reason problems exist at all,

Is because we as humanity are masters of complaining and having completely short sighted perspective!

May we no longer use our eyes exclusively for decoration,

But may they be used to have vision and find direction.