Battery

I feel drained today.

I look back on my life and wonder what I did for all those years.

What do I have to show for them?

I have no real skills.

I have poor work ethic.

I can't even remember past events that well.

Who are my friends? (This question I think I can answer)

Who were my friends? (This question I surely cannot.)

People seem to move on and fade away. 

I see my dreams and aspirations slipping away for the same reason.

There is no reason.

I say I am an optimist. But sometimes I slip into this state.

I feel like I see things clearer, but I just see things how I don't want to. 

Is this clarity? Is this how the world looks to me, truly?

Sometimes I want to breakdown and cry.

But I think I can't really bring myself to because I don't even believe myself all the way when I get like this.

I want to breakdown and cry.

I want to breakdown and cry.

I want to breakdown and cry.

A week seems like an eternity. 

I wish I could live in last week.

Whomped

Like a cave I start to stand vacant

empty inside but all I do is kick ass.

Standing there, open, ready for treasure

maybe adventurers to swallow hole

fucking bears making their home inside

hell no, got to kick them out all the time.

The light you bring from day to day,

always consistent, even when skies are gray.

The result of years of pent up self expression,

I bleed onto the paper,

not blood, but ink. Words. 

Or maybe that was a time I needed to tell myself something.

The time is passing, but here I sit. 

I have images in my head,

fantastic pictures to be drawn and seen

but can I draw them?

I attempt, poorly. 

Words tell a more complex tale, don't they?

They say a picture tells a thousand words, but do a thousand pictures even begin to say one word?

-------------------------------

I'm pretty sure these are different poems. I wrote them on a word file a while ago, but I can't really remember why. My brain is in a strange state right now. 

Curious

Staring up, lost in space.

Here we are, the two of us; lost men.

Where are we?

The grass surrounds us like snakes to a mouse. 

So full of life, the field is, I wonder if we are dead.

The wind blows, and a wholly impossible song rings out.

Suddenly, we are in a battlefield, the war drums are pulsating savagely.

Spears and swords jut up from the ground petrifyingly. 

I smile, for some reason I am reminded of the ocean.

Sand in between my toes.

I close my eyes and breathe in the air, it is salty, and it stings.

I open my eyes and am disgusted with myself.

This is what war is.

War is death.

The black symbol hangs upon a banner. 

Anarchy reigns now. 

With passion, I hold my hands high. 

None can still my blade, for I am the viper who cuts like a diamond, and floats like a feather.

Danger incarnate, yet beautiful and light.

This was all my doing, and I know it.

Still all I feel is scattered.

My head is abound, and my fears surround.



----------------------------

Just a disclaimer; I have no idea what I was thinking when I wrote this. I'm not even sure this qualifies as coherent on any level.

Whoops

Am I out of things to say? 

Maybe in this way.

Perhaps it's time to try again

to find something new.

Yes, that is what I'll do.

Locked

Once around the wrist.

Something above to express yourself. 

Something below to keep it attached. 

Something to write with.

Something to keep it safe.

Is this all you need?

Snap

My wings spring to life. I growl. They seem to have taken on a life of their own lately. "What the he-" I start, but am rudely interrupted. The wings stretch forcefully. This is just something that is out of my control. "No, not now." I try, to no avail. The wings have to fly. I can't contain them. They erupt into a flurry of energy, and I am pushed into the skies. "Where are you taking me this time?" I ask. They cannot respond, for they are wings. As we reach the clouds, they stop flapping as furiously, and just spread wide and let me glide. 

I never enjoy the timing, but god the sight is beautiful. Here I fly, and I get to see the world like no one else. I feel blessed for a second, and I cannot help but think to my youth, "You have the wings of an angel." they would say. Where have they all gone? Where have all the people gone? I cannot see them here on Earth, and I have spent much time looking. God the sights are beautiful. The once industrial world has become much more green, so much more healthy. Where cars once roamed, grass smashes through into the conscious world. I am now aware that there is so much more to do in this world. The world is a beautiful place. The world expresses itself through its scenery. When the world is gray and concrete, the world is unhealthy, evil, being destroyed. When the world is green, it is healthy. Green is the color of life.

There is so much more. 

Three hundred seconds

THREE HUNDRED DAYS LEFT

And all I do is sit here complaining.

TWO HUNDRED DAYS LEFT

And all I do is sit here complaining.

ONE HUNDRED DAYS LEFT

And I'm finally getting started.

ONE DAY LEFT

And I just wish that I had more time. 

A minute gains value when you don't have many left.

The minute hand ticks down slowly,

A second gains value when you don't have many left.

I dread it reaching the '12' and yet, it will soon.

A millisecond gains value when you don't have any left.

I can't even tell you how important each millisecond is.

It takes me 215 milliseconds to react, but infinite things happen every millisecond.

How can I even contemplate the past when the future rushes forward? 

I think it over for a second, precious milliseconds escaping me. I think about the face that you made. 

ONE HOUR OF THOUGHT

I feel no closer.

ONE DAY OF THOUGHT

I feel no closer.

ONE WEEK OF THOUGHT

I'm finally getting it.

But there's no time to think that long about each thing. 

There's something to be said about living in the moment, but I have no idea what it is.

I like where I am. I like to think that. 

But if I think about that, are those not precious moments drained from me? 

No, you can't live for just the future.

No, you can't live for just the future.

Beat it

Heart beats,

so fast,

this moment,

might pass,

hold it,

in place,

heart continues,

to race,

can't keep,

thoughts straight.

my heart rate,

is your fault. 

Whoa

I can't stop thinking about you,

I want to go back to that moment, and live in it.

It was amazing, because you are amazing.

I don't even know what it was,

only that I loved it.

Art

Castled

From my impenetrable castle they laugh,

poking, prodding, jabbing, stabbing.

They have taken control of what was once mine,

and they know they are invincible.

I consider for a second destroying the walls to their castle,

but that castle was once my castle,

and to destroy it would be to knock down all I've worked for.

I carefully dance around the battlefield, 

avoiding all that I can.

From the towers, arrows rain,

the drawbridge up, the castle not even accessible. 

Retreat is not an option,

but how do I advance?

The victories are not even truly victories.

We take out one archer,

even if they are not replaced immediately,

we know that there are more archers ready to take their place.

Morale is wavering,

my once glorious army, now strewn across the field.

The flowers which used to stand looking lovely,

now smashed and covered in blood.

The arrows have stopped flying from their towers,

almost sympathetically.

The enemy feels bad for me and my army, and this is the worst defeat of all.

I gather what is left of my army for one final assault,

I give an inspiring speech (or whatever I can muster),

and on one final wave of hope we charge the castle walls,

but then I realize that there was never any hope of victory.

I would never destroy my beautiful castle.

We drop our weapons and wait politely outside.

Perhaps someday soon they'll be kind enough to finish us off.

Away

Divided. At. Last.

All of us have now gone our separate ways.

A gray cloud looms overhead.

"CRACK!" The lightning screams in sheer anger.

I stand upon the mountain plateau alone, or so I thought.

"What are you doing here?" 

I turn to look. A friendly face, surprisingly. 

"I could ask you the same." I respond. 

I'm glad to see them.

The lightning screams once more.

A worried face shows itself.

"What do you make of it, Adonis?"

Adonis stared out across the horizon.

"Something bad is coming."

There it is

I'm excited for the future,

and I'm excited for  what the future holds.

I sit for a while, thinking quietly.

I don't get to much, but the sun hasn't risen yet,

and with it, the people of the world.

It's nice to have things be slow, and not have to worry.

With each person that rises,

with them;

a thousand issues.

a million problems.

I'm not sure if it's the serenity that this quiet oneness brings,

or if it's the forgetfulness of an early morning rising.

But I feel calm inside.

It's amazing a persons capacity to juggle a million things at once.

And with each person I think of, a billion things present themselves.

A conversation with someone is like a fencing match.

And you need to constantly be aware.

Not just of your opponent, but of the fencing rules.

You can't just take the hit and whip them with your sword.

You're just not allowed, the crowd will reel in disgust and boo you away.

You can't just walk away, or it's considered losing.

You can't randomly start fighting another person, 

because one person already takes up enough energy to keep track of.

But it's hard not to. 

I feel like I'm trying to fence with 15 people at once,

trying to keep them all at bay. I want them to get bored and leave,

but it's like with every move I make, they all just get excited.

I blink sometimes, and everyone takes a free swipe.

That's one point down, one more loss to add to my score.

Despite me losing, I still have my back against the wall.

I just want to cut through, a swathe of destruction.

But every time one takes a break, two are ready to take its place.

And they won't let me leave.

And it's my fault I can't go.

And they trap me inside.

I can't break free.

Art

Plain English

Cowboys,

Indians,

Knights,

Pirates,

Astronauts,

Vikings,

Robots,

These things are awesome.

Art

Art

Art

Poetry is still dumb

I always thought that

sappy poetry was dumb

but I get it now.

Heh heh heh

I woke up today,

and I couldn't believe my luck.

Things don't usually go this well for me.

I lay there in bed, half remembering parts of my dreams.

You've infected my mind in the best way.

It made me doubt, for a second, that this was real.

I don't think I've been this happy in a long time.

Most of my thoughts seem to lead straight to you,

and I don't want to say it because I don't want to scare you away,

but after you left I started to miss you,

and after you left the only place I wanted to be was near you.

It's a funny thing, and I had my reservations before you said yes.

If you hadn't made me smile like you had, 

maybe I wouldn't be feeling this way so strongly.

My emotions are just leaking out of me now,

and my affection for you is growing exponentially.

And I wouldn't have it any other way.

No one else has ever made me feel this way,

and I still can't believe my luck.

Tiger

Golden Apples, too.

In search of treasure,
But all that I really want
is your heart of gold.

Cradled

The sea cradles the boat gently.
Back and forth,
back and forth.
I take comfort in the fact that we're halfway through our voyage,
back and forth,
back and forth.
The ship is full of rotten thoughts for one another,
confinement with others is not a way to keep friends.
Yet, back and forth, back and forth,
back and forth we go.
Tempers flare, and tempers sink,
sailing on this sea of salt.
Here we go and still we think,
that our journey will come to a halt.
It's no one's fault.

We are bound together by our captains word,
but most of us just fear his sword.
He keeps his strength up, eating meals,
we get scraps, while he gets jewels.
We do the work, he gives the orders,
we obey because we don't have the strength to say no.
Stuck in a droning and repetitive act.

Half-baked

Slightly adrift, smiling widely.

I can't help but grin as my armor shatters to bits. They're getting dangerously close to the core.

Layers of armor crack away. The lame gray fades away,

the sapphire attire crumbles and falls,

the diamond shell begins to melt.

-------

Like a King, I stand above all.

My statues, all golden, all those lives that I've touched.

That sounds presumptuous. I assume I brighten every life I touch.

I ignore the crumbling cold granite statues in my courtyard. The gold glimmers brighter anyways.

-------

Every time you say something to me,

my heart has started to break.

Not in the conventional way, where one might feel heartbroken, 

but in a new way.

It's like when you eat chocolate,

and slowly snap bits of it off to eat it.

Except in this case, it's not a sugary taste I get,

it's a warmth in my chest, a fire inside.

Something wonderful,

and bit by bit it's taking over my heart.

-------

Like a lion I roar to myself,

and yet you can quiet me. 

Something about you makes me flustered, nervous,

I don't want you to feel distant, but I'm scared of having you close.

-------

I'm on a cloud, I don't think I've been any higher than this.

Not in the usual, high-energy-bouncing-around-the-room way, 

but in a new way. I don't think I've felt like this before.

I looked in the mirror, and my image of the person on the other side was different.

I don't know what it was about it. Maybe it was the tired eyes he had,

but the stupid grin on his face was a sight so see, he didn't even know he wore it.

He seemed happy, despite all else, despite how tough the day to come might be,

despite the challenges he might soon face. I wonder to myself,

what's going on here?

Sink or swim, those are not the only two options.

I choose to stay afloat by bailing. The water leaks into the base of the ship, but I think I can do this. 

It might be easier to patch the hole, but there's already so much water in here.

There's no time to patch the hole. Even if it'll just take a second, I need to focus on the 

water.

Sink or swim, those are not the only two options.

I can try to stay afloat by bailing.The water leaks into the base of the ship at an alarming rate, but I think I can do this.

The neglected hole has broken open more, and more water leaks into the base of the ship. No time to pay attention to that, there's already so much water in here.

As the boat slowly goes down
I wonder why
I didn't
patch
the hole
in
the
first

place.

Sink or swim. I guess they were right.

Perfectly formed in the middle of the night.
Not sure what it means, but there it is.
It was made of a perfect victory,
the golden globe held high.
The sword was an essential part, but now it is not.
I cast it aside and think for a second.
Yes, I think for a second.
Was it the victory that was perfectly formed?
I draw my feather, dip it in ink.
I start to write of my perfect victory.

The experimental girl, 

born from a test tube,

perfect in every way,

not sure what her purpose was.

She wandered the world, looking for meaning.

Always thinking that everyone else knew something she didn't.

The only thing that made her different was that she tried to find meaning,

and she did.

There is a certain lack of organization today.

As I wake up, the sun is setting.

As I wake up, I sit in bed.

I haven't even changed to be socially acceptable. 

Like a caterpillar before they've made their cocoon, sat inside it for a month, and then burst out in beautiful glory

Butterflies are gorgeous.

You never know what a caterpillar will look like when it changes though.

As I nervously fumble around stupid words,

I can't help but think that there's something there.

I reflect on what I just said, what does it really mean?

I can't even decipher myself sometimes, even if the message is plain.

Or maybe I just don't want to understand its vast confusion and I enjoy remaining content.

I look to the stars, maybe there is some merit to what they say about libras.

Vain, flirtatious, indecisive.

Indecisive. Indecisive. Indecisive.

As I sit, I stand to reason,

there's no right time for it this season.

I wish there was, I truly do,

but in my head I stew and stew. 

There's nothing more I want than you.

Why do you doubt yourself?

Why do you think like that?

Sometimes I wonder what goes on in that head.

it's true what was said

every single word

even if you don't believe

you know it's true, somewhere inside.

And then I think about my head

and realize that I feel the same about myself.

Like a knight, I feel stalwart and strong,

My amor shining in the sunlight, standing, poised and ready for combat.

On the surface, my armor is gray and dull.

Unpolished, and overused. 

Cracks appear on the surface, but it's been repaired many times before.

I'm unsure of when to stop the maintenance. 

You strike, and I block with my shield, an ugly and splintered thing.

The once glorious and impenetrable wooden shield, bearing my outward appearance.

It's been hacked and smashed to bits so many times before by so many others.

I can't stop using it though, it's in my training.

I think sometimes I should get a new shield, 

but I also know I enjoy fighting from a disadvantage. 

My sword is brilliant, at least I think. 

When I look at it, all I can see is my comrade into battles of past, helping me to fight.

When others see it, they see it as a danger, an immediate threat.

It gleams to me, but to them it's rusted and worn, and they fear it. 

They fear that once I get through their armor, the sword will cut them deeper and worse than any other

and they should fear it.

All of my foes fear me,

they do not hold the blade like I do, they hold it unsurely and casually.

I take the fight seriously, and when I want to cut them, I make sure I cut deep.

They can only respond by cutting at me, but I block away their attacks so easily.

Sometimes I wish they would cut deep into my flesh.

The pain of their weaponry would remind me what it's like to experience battle.

Perhaps I'll meet a foe worthy of my true fighting skill someday.

Perhaps they just haven't started fighting seriously yet.

My brain is shattered

into mush

my head is caving in

My mind feels full

like nothing else

and my brain is caving in

my head is done

full of dumb

can't have one more minute

and here I am

living my life

and my head is caving in.

I haven't ever wondered what lies outside these walls.

The boundless landscape.

I turn around, and I turn around again.

From here I can see the curvature of the earth. 

Three hundred and sixty degrees.

And I'm not even curious what lies beyond.

His hat has bullhorns on it, how presumptuous.

I've gained notoriety for having a quick trigger,

so people want to shoot at me.

His eyes are intense, staring at mine. 

There's an invisible line between us,

I know that if I break eye contact first, that he'll draw his gun and fire

but how quick are they?

Their horns are distracting.

A flurry of movement and he grabs his gun first.

It's too bad for him that I had the quick trigger.

I remember when I was younger. There is not much I remember, but I remember this. The reason I don't remember much is because once my sister told me about false thoughts; when you would think of yourself as being somewhere in the third person. This never made sense to me until she explained it, for I always thought I had some magical power to be able to see my memories from the eyes of an onlooker, the third person.

Now when I look back, I can't see myself in the third person. Any memories of the kind are removed from my head when they are found, and this leaves me with very few real memories. One is through teary eyes in kindergarten. I had fallen asleep, and when I awoke, my mother was there. I do not remember why I was bawling, for there had been no bad dreams, I could just remember crying and I was confused on why I was crying! I'm still not sure why I remember that. Another memory I have is when I had not even started school yet. It was snowing and it was up to my knees, and all I wanted to do was go to the bathroom. The snow was too high, and I could not walk fast enough, because my knees were just high enough to go over the snows surface, as such I had to lift my legs very high to get anywhere. 

These are not my only two memories, but these are the ones I remember if I'm asked to remember something. These are the earliest memories that I can remember, and when I look back, I can remember other things about my life, but not until I really started becoming a person. My memories have no great shock or purpose to them, they are just memories. I remember losing my video game privileges until thanksgiving, I remember the first time I went to my friends house, I remember when I first met someone, and I remember names and faces from high school. My brain is scattered, and still I can remember these.

And I wonder for the 7 billion people alive on this earth, the 7 billion hours worth of memories being formed right now, how many will actually be remembered?

Arted

Gracefully we dance and sway,

parrying each other away.

Fencing is not difficult when both of you are fighting defensively.

I want to feign, but I know you'd see right through it.

Our feet move gracefully, remaining the same distance apart at all times.

back

and forth

and back

and forth

and back

and forth

we move, our swords playfully bouncing off each others.

No one wants to strike the other, so instead we dance,

the clinking of our swords reminiscent of a knife on a wine glass about to toast.

No great speech comes after though, 

no words of wisdom to live by though,

nothing helpful remains,

just playful parries, because no one wants to make the first move.

The playful dance of the swords.

The world spins quickly, throwing me into orbit.

I'm in a space of my own now, in space.

Not on this planet anymore, because really; who wants me here?

I can act surprised all I want, but what was I expecting?

Wait, "Not on this planet anymore," Implying that I still am.

"Who wants me here?" implying that I'm still where I was.

I don't know why I still say things like that,

when I was never on this planet to begin with.

(***that planet)

There it is, laid out in front of them.

Not all the pieces, of course, but most of them.

I don't know if I just helped, or destroyed the whole thing,

but the puzzle will always think itself puzzling because it's puzzled. 

Even if every piece seems to slide into place so perfectly.

Even if each and every mystery is solved, and everything is at last revealed,

it's in a puzzles nature to remain puzzling.

The puzzle might look solved, but there are still pieces missing.

Pieces I keep locked away so that no one can see them.

You might think it's complete, but if you were to open the vault

then you'd see just how few pieces you really had.

Probably.

The vapors fill the air,

a disgusting thing.

Here I sit, looking at the thing that I loathe most.

It leaves for a second, but I know that it's just temporary.

They'll be back. 

They're everything I hate though.

God damn roommate.

Blue skies,

and the light lies.

That deceptive sun shines so brightly, so high in the sky. 

The light that if we were closer to, would burn us to bits.

The light that if we were father from, wouldn't keep us warm.

But is it a blessing or a curse that it provides life to the world?

It whispers sweetly into my mind. Warmly. Comfortingly.

I want it to hug me, to reassure me that everything is okay.

And it is… right?

I shake it off, of course it isn't.

The sun lied to me with its beauty.

Not sure what to do, proceeding down this path,

Do I fight the dragon, summon his wrath?

Do I sit in my castle, and just relax?

But how can I, with his constant attacks…?

It's been said that a dragons hoard, 

is worth the risk, for the reward.

But can I leave these castle walls?

Suddenly, I hear the calls,

The townsfolk all look displeased, 

their happiness has all been seized. 

The dragon has returned, unhappy,

"Bring me treasure, and make it snappy."

I oblige the dragon, fearing torment,

give him my gold to 'Pay the rent' 

That's my price for living here,

sometimes I want to disappear. 

Hand hovering above the holster.
Waiting for the slightest twitch, any indication.
A bullet rings out, catching him in the side of the ear.
Wasn't fair, but what can you do.
Better him then me.

I want to say I put effort into you.

But I can’t.

At the time I started this, it was 2:34,

And when I finish this, it’ll be 2:40ish.

Does this make me a bad writer?

Is this poetry rubbish?

I feel like I’m posting on twitter or facebook, like;

“Hey, what’s my status now?”

And then I refresh,

I open a blank page,

I write how I’m feeling,

Then I tell the world.

Does the world care?

Does the world need to know, should be the question I ask when I write.

Sometimes I think poetry is rubbish, but I just want to get the point across that I can do it.

I like writing about my feelings, it keeps me calm and collected.

Sometimes I look back and wonder if I even had a topic, if I even wanted to say anything in the first place.

I have to constantly reread so I don’t feel dumb, like I went off topic.

But here I am, going off topic. What the hell?

My thoughts are scrambled, and thus this is what happens.

God damnit, brain. What are you doing up there?

The world it looks so down and glum

But why bother looking so down and glum?

Just because the world is a pile of shit doesn’t mean you can’t sit upon a glorious golden throne.

I look inside myself, and know someday I’ll make it there.

Somehow I’m going to claim the throne for myself.

I just need to sort out my goals.

What are my goals?

I have no idea.

But they’re slowly dripping away.

Or are they

Just becoming

Clear?

Giggle, I proclaim

I giggle, for you alone.

Giggle for me, please?

You smile wider,

I can’t help but do the same.

I’m smiling for now.