Scatter Brained.

Lots of thoughts in my head. Always. I decided a while ago, that my walk is my own. The things in my life, the thoughts in my head, the way that I speak, it's all my own. No one can take that away from me. Most that I come across, befriend, don't comprehend the depth of my words.. I'm not going to stoop down to a shorter speaking, a simpler mindset, to make it easier on anyone. I am who I am, I'll leave the growth up to myself.

It breaks my heart how I see people who have forgotten how to love themselves, or just forgotten completely. I'd like a chance to get to every person on the planet, and tell them they have purpose, that they were created for great and better things. I'd like to tell myself the same thing. Why is it so hard to believe that we were made for great things? You are alive.

My footsteps are getting shorter. My words are getting louder. My tears are getting dryer.

I'd like my feelings to have more meaning to myself. I don't have the motivation I long for. I'm learning slowly what I have to live for. I'd like to think that there is nothing underneath my feet. That I am invisible and nonexistent.

I'm pushing through my surfaces. I'm finding new life in this wicked town of mine. I'm leaving what I lost, I'm running towards what my childhood brought me. I'm finding myself all over again.

When you're older, your heart turns to ice. Shut out the world, hiding in your secret places. The case is never the same. The things we do to stay alive. Coffee, cigarettes, books, television, distractions. The time will only pass so slowly, quickly. Can only focus on the next minor step. Leaping to a drastic needed change in ourself, we're hiding from it all. Like to sit all day and let my music play. Waiting for inspiration to breeze across my face. Waiting. The window opens, look out. Waiting. The time is now, find what you're looking for. We're all waiting for something. Tired of begging myself to go search. Inches by inches, step by step. Mark my clock, pick up the pen. This time will reoccur again and again. My breath is concentrated. My fingerprints measured. My legs feel weak. I think you know exactly what you're saying. I've never had a way with women. I've never had a way with who I am. This world, we walk, past safe people. The stop signs are always passed, the yields are always ignored. Falling from our own tragedy. Difficult manors, easy disruptions. We cradle ourselves in our self infliction, our safety nets, our little white lies that keep us entertained. There is little truth in a simple "Good morning". Our mornings are never good.

The things we "can't" remember. The things we wish we forgot. The memories we never made. Is this what you've left behind? Is this all you've put forth?

When we leave, when we depart from this planet, and on to our next, is it dirt you're walking on, or glass? I've chosen dirt. Broken and happy. Held to my own standards, set high. Stepped down from my arrogance and my spite. I am broken to this world, I will not stand down.

Bury your burdens, deep deep down. Looking back, optional, not chosen. Lay your head down for rest, to wake up to brighter. The burning and the bleeding, the screaming in your sleep, the tremble in your voice. This isn't your future, this is not your given fate. You shall overcome. All the faith in the world, from me to you. I can only do so much. This is your battle, chose your weapons. I can't provide them, nor can this earth. You are your greatest downfall. Not what was done, what you've let it create.

My soul has gone south, my passion gone north. The literal sense has gone to ashes.