Here Today Gone Tomorrow: A Collection Of Thoughts And Emotions

Life's Strange Life's very strange Nothing quite remains the same All things are bound to change But who's to blame Life is a game Where you lose and rarely gain In Life. They say Don't use your heart just your brain As if it were to save you from the pain. In life the feeling of hate beats love with a higher rate one no longer chooses to decide They just hesitate in fear of their own fate The closest people to you always seem to disappear. when they're needed the most. Then randomly reappear. when you’re the one giving the toast Day after day goes by you are born.. Just to die Year after year Nothing is ever clear. except fear Today you breathe Tomorrow they grieve because you chose to leave I promise this isn’t a lie No one is ready for your last goodbye. . . . . . . Sober and relapse This anxiety Makes me anxious Feeding its self Till it's dangerous Its PTSD Of some degree The start and the failures Take its toll on me The inability to remember The pain and the fear Forgetting the scars That should be so clear The voice in your head Reassuring you Saying this time will be different When you know it's not true Louder and louder It starts to scream Your anxiety grows And splits at the seam Then you give in Letting go at last The voice takes control And repeats the past Another, another It screams in a growl More ,more A predator on the prowl Then it's gone And you're just floating there Trying to make sense of things Trying to be aware Then it crashes down You drown in hate Your full of self loathing And memories that exacerbate Now the long road ahead Seems to have no end Your chest hurts bad And tremors set in You can't stay awake nor eat So you traumatize your brain You're scared you might die But your more scared of the pain Four days and your better And the memories end Then that tiny voice Starts to whisper again . . . . . . . A Smudge Why do I feel like I belong in places I know I shouldn't be? In the cracks, in the rawness of reality, I sit in peace. Such an odd disturbance I am. For its among the odd, among the shadow I feel at ease to be me. I was not made for finer things. I belong in the dirt I’m no royal beast. The finer things are shunned by me. I just want to be alone. To not pretend to not fit in but to succeed in the mess I am . . . . . . Box less Stop shoving me, Trying to fit me, Within your box. I will not fit, So leave me be. Don’t conform me To the standards Of your closed mind. These boxes of yours, They limit you, I will not make it easy, For you to judge me. Instead I will become box less. Don’t bother me, Cause I know what I am . . .. . . . .. I think I’d make a fine villain I look at the world and there’s silence in my head Broken by the whirring of mental machines Calculating, observing, graphing, recording The world outside my brain My smiles are painted I have the charm of a fox baring sharp teeth Glittering in the light of day, standing between a lost rabbit My entire being’s a mask. There’s so much wrong with the world So much disorder in the natural order We as a species have grown corpulent on Material objects And the solution sounds easy Sounds like something people would want to do anyways But when you tell people to adopt, drive less, cut down You become a monster, an irritant Someone once said that the villain is always the hero of his own story Truer words have never been spoken Heroics worldwide gave us this wide world But with nobody to stop us, Will we even be able to save ourselves? . . . . . . Whatever Our efforts as our deaths focus on the accomplishments today if one fears one’s own death then death is all one knows. there are people who want to live forever this is the biggest form of fear. life repetitions in form maybe way to new habits new habits in form –new repetitions. the hope is that one had learned from their past making no mistake twice or to not write the same story twice but who is anyone to stop others from straying from hope all is always circumstance my choices available mere circumstance to choose from. yet not within reality my own fault to choose from. just like the Christmas tree does not choose itself to go up every year so patiently, we suddenly see all angles. I am everywhere. and yet I am in human form and life will come because life is me and I am everything and everyone and no one. . . . . . . . Fucked up I do my best work Fucked up. My head is swimming In crimson, in-the-depths Tinge glances upon the paper, red spectrum Is truly the hardest to capture, and my thoughts are unassailable. You’re holding my black heart, my hand, My hat hostage. We’ll down trees for this. Why do I put up with reality? I’m bored. I’m tired . I open the door and Somehow no one gives a damn, except for The f****d up man, the weak man He Looks in your eyes and their eyes match: Dollar signs. Why not take it all now, and watch the rest burn Up later? I’m dizzy, and my heart is beating fast. I’m not built to last . Wishing a crushing Darkness upon myself. I wonder how people distract themselves from Life’s fig tree , as I glance pathetically through Lace. The world will end a disappointment. Your rationality is impotent. You’re f****d.