Elucidating Questions

It starts as a tiny bubble, it grows.

It consumes as it does, feeding into everything

Every way of life

Ever facet.

It drains the life, so it can live.

It emits a scent only those on top can enjoy.

It grows,

As it grows and consumes everything

What is left

But the feudalism of the past

In better light.

Every time I get angry

I taught myself

So that he won’t explode

Just hurt yourself

Every time I want to point barbs

I just point them at myself

That way no one gets hurt

No one gets hurt

Unaffected by my life in any way,

Continuing through summer and music and friends and family and animals and fun

On a scale from 10 to -10

Can’t I just have a 1?

Even just a 1?

I don’t know why he’s zero, but I love him all the same and I don’t know why he keeps trying to be -10 but I swear it’s not him

It can’t be.

But I don’t know why.

I keep checking looking around

Trying to take it in

So maybe I could find just…just anyone at all I don’t care

No more fghting over me and what I should do

I still feel like an equal to them but not to the person and the person’s friend behind me on the sidewalk.

Dear little sunflower

You are so sweet.

Perhaps I shouldn’t have pointed in all directions, I should have just followed the sun.

The void of a heart torn out sewn in thrown out ripped apart stuck back together

There’s too many ashes I only feel it when it’s broken.

I probably won’t find it.

All I feel is pain,

The scale ends at the middle of the end of pain and the beginning of whatever the opposite was supposed to be.

It just stops there so every day even the interactions that should have got through just melt into the whisper of pain that doesn’t whisper it merely

Continues a conversation over everything

Every day.

Like two conversations never ending

And I can’t see through the fog

The anticipation of social interaction

Maybe I just need cocaine.

Don’t know, I haven’t tried it.

Maybe that’s what I’ll hold on to.

Nothing else works.

It hits me in these moments I think

Of how little I want to trust people but I trust so deep

I don’t even know what I expected but it really wasn’t this

And I don’t know what I did, but I can see they’re in bliss

So I either missed or it’s something I did, but I can’t go through just writing it all again

I’d have to live it and I can’t go back to that place

Where I was waiting and watching intently for a familiar face

Who never showed.

The story just gets so old and I want something new to go on but what do I have left when I don’t know where I’m going and I’m just this huge mess

Where does the erased go to be written back in?

Does my life really have to begin again?

Because it’s not a childish don’t want to wait it’s a fear

I’m afraid of what horrors each new day can bring and I wade through the waters that are too deep to even swim

From the second I open my eyes I am waiting for the thing that will bring

The fear back down and remind me it’s okay but I drown there

And I sit and I wait there.

A part of me screams to get up and try again to feel, but I’m so afraid.

No one likes me when I’m real.

At some point the body chimes in and I know it’s a metaphor I made the metaphor and I don’t know what for it just happened

Mostly I feel as though what I do these days is reply to false hopes of the past as they try to pull me aside and say

But what if it’s different today

I had a good time

And then I fell down

With the hand of Saturn at my back

Venus watching as I fell in love with the children.

Jupiter overhead as we spoke of the Empress.

I remember it like a dream.

But I don’t know why.

I’m so tired.

This real human body and I.

The numbness is it preferable?

If I turn it all off and decide for a moment that I don’t feel anything

Beneath the lonely sad depressed person

Beneath the bit of a mess

Beneath the everything

I’m bored.

I can’t get to where I want and I can’t do what I want to feel good.

I can’t.

Simple, I can’t do anything,

But I watch as everyone else does.

Always left behind.

I have a friend I quite like him,

He’s very kind, he reminds me of someone.

He reminds me of a friend.

He never called it his home

Peter Pan.

Cultural canon.

Overheard conversation

巻き込むから。

The tree passed the pinecone to its neighbour rather than drop it on my head.

Nature versus nurture.

If it’s manipulation I’m not very good at it, am I?

If it was manipulation people would do as I was hoping they would following my actions.

A very small feather.

And a chicken bone.

There once was a chicken of fire, who fought all that was around him.

But he gave in too quickly,

And he missed the sign he shouldn’t have missed.

I miss all this time I could have spent with you.

I miss it all.

A little piece inside me still seeks out peace of mind

And I know it cannot come for such a weary heart as mine

They tell me that it’s my fault,

My own dark recipe

But when I hear it calling and I try to run and flee

I called out in the day time,

I called out in the night,

I sang every sing song I thought of to keep me awake,

Tried to connect the dots and fill in the holes that fell,

And when it hit me hard it was like waking from a spell.

Alone and in the wreckage of things I didn’t understand

Separated and alone I withered in the sand

Parched and begging for the rain because it’s all I have left

I thought I could lead this life of mine if only for a friend.

Yet selfishly I lead the cause of my broken life

In to tomorrow still awake at the stroke of midnight.