#hashtag my life, shorten it to simple sentences, and character limits and finite blocks of shorthanded text. Strip my linguistics from my creatively complex lexicon, equate my inability to comprehend conformity to the mass desire to relate. To someone, to anyone, [to] find their flawed differences mirrored in another being’s abbreviated expression(s) of self. I …
I do match, but moreso in an abstract way than in a coordinated one… 24 March 2019
I want things I can’t have; Things that are more than physical, more than emotional, more than possible. I want things I know I deserve things so easily attainable I’ve convinced myself they’re only future dreams. Dreams that I’ll try to step up to but instead place aside [with] other things I’ll get to dull …
I still feel like an impostor but… not in that I’m hiding or faking my presence, but in that I have trouble finding a sense of belong wherever I am. Really, moreso in that the need to belong hurts intensely more than the truth of the knowledge that I don’t. 23 March 2019
Even subconsciously I know when hurt is out to hurt me and always I feel as though my peaceful passiveness toward it all pilots the gas that lights the flames of self-pity that brand me with every acquiescence. 23 March 2019
Took a few days off,
Now I’m back with another one off
the top of this dome,
where whimsy and logic freely foam.
Pen keys open
[the] doors to my haven.
Writing a sweet freedom;
stories of belong,
Wistful strains of home
My soul’s siren song.
You don’t understand my love. You don’t understand the depths of its deep, the flows of its flux. Like rivers, like oceans, terrifying bottomlessness – Weightless heaviness like stepping unexpectedly from the shallows. You don’t understand my heart, How its every beat creates rhythms that know dance, Yet there’s no dancing When we touch, Only …
Make way for my wayward brother, not soon behind there comes another. My brothers blinded to fate and wonder… Journeys shorn short by converging thunder of badge and bullet, that angrily trill eternity’s song… Clutching one another; they dance erratically to glory’s gong – Threads of bloodborne melody woven into harmony of wrong. Once a …
Afraid to go inside, afraid of what I’ll find, Ego still survives Its death elusive and unkind. Ego drives fear; Loneliest passengers alive. Inner truth divine it’s solace soul seeks to find… Fear of better fear of worse, But only at times. Insecurity abound spilling to the ground Bespoken anomaly Things of thought fleeting… Whole …
True wealth is the wealth of the soul
Poetry, story and real life. Once soldier, busnessman, grandfather and Poet.
A collective of thoughts, poetry, writing works, blurbs, and other randomosity
BUZZWEED QUIZZES
Art Studio Dumfriesshire
Kayfucius 