Compliation of Rants

Middle of something:
In these days I am learning to shut down my emotions and just look at everything as if it is new. Maybe it will or i know it will make me stranger to the people I converse with but it is a refreshing change for me to be relatively emotionless. No I am not going to flip out by just by killing. Rather I am not actively seeking new ways to perceive life just with a self imposed state of mind. On an ending note...with the regards of me wearing the all Dickies attire in black or blue, I am a fan or wearing really plain stuff that is a solid color.

Never Me:
I rarely ever dream of anything. My eyes close and I plunge in temporary comfort whenever I can. Lately in the short hours before I would wake I have dreamed dreams in abundance. Each dream I am there behind a set of eyes and skin complete foreign to me. Random flashes of color and images feign importance to me as I live under another guise. My words, language are strange and varied. I have felt death, love, passion, pain, sorrow, anger and joy in so many nights. These people to whom I have never met, the person I become when I am under and the places I have been, still resonate within my thoughts. The attachment is brief to periods of slumber, but those episodes have become lifetimes lost.
There are days recently in which I lose a hold of my own identity for moments at a time. I peer into the denizens of the city, my mind becomes blank to embrace the individuals who moves among us anonymously. In thought I see as they do, think as they are and live as they can. It ends the same with me gasping for a small amount of breath back in my own skin. In trains, I travel thinking hard about the dreams I have led. I am faced at a standstill at my own reflection at home as I am a stranger onto myself, my own skin and eyes could be of someone else and i am nothing more than a visitor.

Looking up:
I am amazed on how little people look up anymore. We live these routine lives without the natural awareness we are instilled with. Concerned about the next bill, worry or problem we deny ourselves the need of just to let it all wander. The tension of just trying to make it by is so tight diamonds should form on our every steps. I look up in the past couple of days for no more of reason but to ponder and wonder beyond the city lights and people would gather to watch as well. Sadly, they all look just to know if there is something important in the sky. In small amusement, i am asked of what I am looking at, I simply say the sky. When asked why, I say with ease, its there. The crowds disperse writing me off to being a bit off and troll again to never look up again.
I look up just for myself and maybe for other who have lost the way back from inspiration. I am inside now writing this on a computer, in a room with no windows or access to natural air. yet, here I still write and ponder about the next time I gaze upon the sky, what gifts it can bring.

From soul to medium:
At times, my hands work freely on their own scribbling about images, people, lives, feelings and everything in between. I cannot think or know what they can produce until they start going with their own agenda, much like when I hear that unheard tune and have to either hum alongside it or sing under my breath lyrics which it would demand of me. I always wonder where they would come from, those fevered obsessesive musings which would arouse my to react in the ways I do. It always happens suddenly like they are possessed in an otherworldly fashion. I feel the pain in my nerves crippling my bones as they move maniacally to do the deed. Until it stop and all the blood stops moving within me, I don't think it will ever stop happening. While I even write this, I shake in the knowing something will follow this up on paper if not digitally. Maybe, just maybe I create what the soul wants to say...

At what cost:
Days have come and past by since I last talked to you
I am restless, disturbed from just missing you
I’ve laid awake trying to find a way to move on
It’s hard fter all this time and gets to me on days like these
I carried my feelings in a rusty tin box and you still had the key
you have invaded me, my mind is infested of you, a persistent disease
in darkness, I sit in silent speech asking you in fevered pleads
what would I have to do?
I have given up tomorrow for you one before
I exposed myself, my spirit, my soul and all
it wasn’t enough? did you want more?
I miss you sometimes like if we parted moments ago
I can still taste you
feel you
want you
in the end I ask myself, at what cost?

Just Me:
Every morning, I wake up not knowing who I am anymore. I refuse to look at reflections. The days go by me as if they were to be forgotten. Get myself out to the world with a promise of just pen an paper. Scribblings, incomplete thoughts and arias all written in the order to be remembered. Sometimes familiar faces cause me to seek small words, short moments of bliss. I go on listening to the unheard symphonies, moments and dreams playing behind my sight. My skewered vision come from unanswered questions based on desire. Those desires once were had then lost like anything wanted. The rules of time have stopped applying to me for a while. The only thing I know of coming the nights and fleeting days. Deeply in my own thoughts, my steps have changed into faint echoes. The echoes are the fading sparks of memories once cherish and held close inside my chest. They all die out like others staining the notion of what I once was. I started to notice in just a day, I could only really see with closed eyes. Bypassing impulse from traditional sight I see the secrets left out in the open. I know of my own buried under my fears. I goon knowing I am alone with others, in moments, from birth and unto death. All which makes me is here flowed on plastic to digital pixels from these very hands narrates to all; it is just me.

Crashing Down:
All the air is forced from my lungs as the strident air pierces my gut with incomphrensible spears. The emptiness grows further until I am just a shell of who I am. In short time, this shell collapses from the uncertainty and confusion of what has just happened. In shattered pieces, I witness the culmination of things come to an early end. The shards of who I am reform into the same empty shell. My shell is filled with an overflowing frustration which can extend beyond this life. I have come to destroy all that I have created in a short amount of time.
I wonder as it all subsides again, can i find my way back? I will fall, have fallen so many times. When I go the world, not yours, but my own comes down with me. To lay down, I breathe in defeat. To stand, I struggle with an unknown victory. I sit up knowing truly at any point that everything I am or done will come crashing down.