Page 23.


I feel myself transforming, I just have no idea where my soul is leading.

And although my poems are ongoing, I have no idea who is reading.

When I find myself brainstorming, I feel my heart that is breathing.

Why when I write so much, do I feel so depleted;

To only come back to the pen as my emotions are seething.

And I am steady swording, the darkness inside of my skull.
When I am shaking from storms, resisting the darkness that holds… I feel okay, in the midst of blurred visions and ruptured mental space.
The heart is something I want to trace, and outline.
Getting my pain out;
Kicking the demons outside.

When I asleep, I fathom the fact that I may be trapped in a distorted reality.

But then, I notice the fact that I am simply subjecting to conformity.

And actually it isn’t that bad, just having to deal with people who make me sad.

Mediocrity and ignorance.
Funny how neither sides become belligerent… But, it’s also an interesting thing that everyone acts accordingly.
And I am just a bird who wants to be seen only sometimes.
Introverted extrovert, who only wants to talk one time, as I’ll see you again I’m sure.

Not a million times about nothing significant.
Human beings, we are odd creatures…
And perhaps, I am a legitimate pessimist.

I wasn’t always this way, I used to be bright and starry eyed.
With a passion stretched as wide.

But now I simply want to hide, from the sameness that covers us…
How are you, Good.
I guess that makes one of us.