Animal

Takes the time away from other thoughts

and intrudes on you from night time.

Did you forget?

Subconscious is always awake. Always thinking.

Always making connections and taking away from the sane self.

It's silent.

But now it jabbers excitedly.

And you realise

That thing that's been bothering you isn't cumbersome or negative.

It's not apathy

to be in love with what you are

not what you should be.

remember

you heard regina spektor in a dream once.

Hey

The future is coming.
You're brave and strong.
The future is endless.
Go climb a tree.
The future is tomorrow.
Stop thinking so hard about what that means.
The future is tiny compared to now.
Enjoy this second, you won't get one like it again.
The future is composed of existences.
Is yours worth living for?
The future is a bloodless battle.
Draw your sword.
The future is an adventure

What the fuck are you waiting for?

To Be Honest...

the feeling has become so normal
i have been forgetting it's there.

Wax Wings and Missing Myths

Icarus flew for a great ideal,
Hercules' strength was strong as steel,
Aquarius swam in paler shores,
Oedipus went against nature's laws,
Time wears beards as old as man,
to avert a war, Phidippides ran.
Rhyme and Reason shaped the fold,
were locked away by logic, cold.
Minds unravel, thick and fast,
Old and slow, until the last,
where calm and clarity end our space,
we see the final days of grace.
What are the myths that shape the fold?
Just words of courage? Words of old?

Saved Draft

And we took them back as masters
we said their word was law
locked in cages
of iron
and words
to the ends of the earth we saw
They placed us in glass
they stole all our voices
they made us all too blind to see
that all is not lost, or broken or gone.
Till the end of their chains
we are free.

... But not reason.

I've been told I write like spillage, the ends of which doth fray,
and to make a part of hist'ry, the games of rhyme I play,
I have no inclination, nor talent at this sport,
but hold my fingers, stay my tongue I must for this retort.
Exceptional the window through which I see words in hue,
not brown nor black, nor brighter things, not grey or green or blue,
the colours of this rhyme you'll find, transcend your earthly sight,
unless you, like I, see words as treats, and not as curse or blight.
By now you've read, and of the rhyme, I've broken all the rules,
I've twisted, warped, and snapped the lines, words take us all for fools.
End it soon, I feel I must, for endings make a start,
and in its end, the rhyme goes on, never to depart.
Ha.