I’ve been trying.. for a long time…
To be happy.
Playing with these words like they will change something.
Playing with my heart like it means something.
What else can I do?
I’m strangled in the days.
Shadows are a comfort. No one is looking.
Time is weighing me down.
Hope is a burden when you seem to be the only one…
Fighting against myself.
Against my own instincts.
I must not trust myself.
Is there good reason?
We are going to the Ocean…
I think I want it to cleanse me. I deserve to be cleansed, to be renewed. It has been too long.
I have a fond memory of the ocean.. There is only one memory, many in one…
The lapping of the waves.. my tongue
The soothing breeze… breath on your thighs
The rocky walls we walked upon.. a divide between right and wrong.. between past and present.. Between where we are and were and would never be again. You trusted me… I don’t trust myself.
Perhaps for good reason.
I tire so easily now. I’m doing more cardio…
My moods are less extreme
I miss them.
I want to break out.. through.. go beyond and let loose.
Why is drinking, sex and drugs the fall back.. why is that rock n roll?
Where is the excitement?
Is that life?
No.. we say it’s in every moment.
But I’m dreading my moments lately..
I hear a thousand voices of advice.. I see a million words of holy books and prayers rattled in the wind. Wisdom knows that is truth but so is now.. and here .. and what I feel and what prattles in my mind amongst itself. I know the words you have in response and I don’t want to hear them!!!
I don’t want to hear the same thing over and over… doesn’t anyone understand .. nothing is more maddening then repetition… repetition… repetition…
I need something new!! Always this desire and the frustration of the realization that this will happen again..
I can’t explain it..
I fail to convey the hopelessness.
I could color a picture
but that is old
and does not truly hold the truth of the emotions.
I could sing.. but I don’t sing and that alone makes me cry.
I don’t even know why I’m here, writing this.
To what gain? There is no beauty in it. This exasperating exhaling of existentialism … it to is not new under the sun.