My mind wanders...I feel a mixture of emotions as I reminisce about past times while analyzing the present, and imagining the future. Pain, sadness, confusion - these seem to dominate my feelings as hope, happiness, and thoughts of perseverance seem to dwindle away in comparison.

I have all of these thoughts screaming out at me, and feel as though there is no one to listen. I want to scream to, but to whom? I don't know what's wrong with me, but feel that there is something wrong. I haven't been able to sleep for 3 weeks.

Time moves on, people move on, why am I seemingly standing still? I've been getting all these weird thoughts and feelings at night...the loneliness creeps up on me. I wonder how people can remain sane in solitary confinement.

Random thoughts...

I feel like I can't even write anymore. I don't know why. I haven't written since "Far From Here" and can't seem to get the pen flowing.

I keep meeting new people and fall into the same cycle. I need to stop this. It's not helpful and I can't let myself keep faltering in my steps to move forward.

I'm having difficulty...

These days I often lose sight of what's important. I let my trivial issues consume me when I know it's more important to look after others. Maybe I wish someone would look after me, as selfish as that sounds. On that note, I feel very detached from people lately. I can see the drift starting to divide. Mmm...

Far from here, I can see the drift starting to divide - a fine line,
Linear, it keeps moving forward, far away from me, though, like time,
So I write a rhyme to encapsulate a single moment in my life,
A notion, a thought; mask its' fate and make it linger so it can be all mine,
But it goes, it fades, dissipates, yet, still it exists in a memory,
Only to be forgotten and replaced by new information received from the sensory,
People tellin' me it's fate, it's way too late, just let it go,
Encased by glass ceilings that flames of hate were used to create, stuck on a plateau,
Is this the way? Writing and wandering aimlessly like a nomad,
Caught up with trivial thoughts of things that I can't and don't have,
Is anyone listening? My body rots and my brain is so trapped,
The pain stiffening my cloudy thoughts, rain drops as tears go splash,
It's insane, the lightning, it hits the plain, the road's thrashed,
Somewhat frightening, though, who's to blame, the inclement forecast?
No, the mirror looks back, and sees the empty void inside,
"Run and hide, run and hide" said simply by that voice of mine,
Is it really me, though? It's hard to say, I cannot tell it now,
Sounds bounce all around and get doused in evil and words scream out loud,
But writing cannot make any change if being right does not make cents,
Still I flow against the grain or even the green and wonder what's left.


A random write.