An Overwhelmed Beauty.

An overwhelmed beauty,
looking for reason in
life's ocean's overpowering
waves.

A head straight on its
shoulders, forcefully
tilted.

But yet, it maintains
its beauty, its understanding.

Needs help against
the eternal waves it
encounters.
And it has me.

Tomorrow's Dreams.

And so,
a very exhausted mechanical beast,
tracks still in place in the mind,
releases its stale steam into the air.
Wheels screech into place,
cemented infinitely,
until a Natural Conductor allows more forward motion,
Tomorrow.

The Psyche's Trick.

Pt. 1

Pain, so rich and mentally maiming,
reaching a point of comedic value.
No longer recognizing the boiling rage,
a face undergoes a true metamorphosis to embody
a lie;
A psychological trick.
And then –
Calm.

Pt. 2

But still,
memories,
knowing,
and pain.

Nothing.

Such daily nothingness
Should be reached for,
Dreamed for,
Desired.

Instead rejected
Set aside for hurt,
misery,
yet thought.

Birds.

A final;
Twilight tries to display God’s hope,
and is distracted by the Birds’ incessant chatter
directly into the nature-encompassing ears.

Noise or beauty, misunderstood.
But for truth, these ears and birds must exist.
For it is Birds that I crave.

Existential Ranking.

A last,
gasping breath over a
flood of false truth.

Success waits to step from
fog-coated shadows in the mind.
Belittlement of existential ranking
is a self-imposed handicap on freedom.
Time will aide success.

Prevention of falsity,
be a yellowing moon over the dark forests,
forgetting society.

But the next surge comes,
doubt and overpowering fear.
And the last,
gasping,
breath –

A Vapor Trails (Soundwork of A Comet Appears by The Shins)

Move past
worlds preserved in glass,
With an unsurpassed knowing.

Darkness descends,
without a dare,
Donning a cloak, creeps into light.
Carves you into modern thought
And it's showing.

Will you accept this fate's invitation?
A whittler’s battle fought,
a kettle providing its steam.
And still, life's there.
But can you hold onto
the cemented failure’s jagged edges?
Or will that fall as well?

Childhood's games
all in a book's lies.
Clarity lost in a glance at a comet,
loneliness is embodied.
Grief grows through God's allowance,
And I let go.

An Übermensch's ubiquity
exists only in lore,
and my sins' sincerity
crashes down every facet of pain.
Now scarred by punishment
and memories of
a golden time.

Lies can rule,
or truth can reign.
Yet the patter of my time
matters not in history’s
amnesiac records.

Dust’s mark left,
more than my vapor’s trails
can dream to.

"And still to come,
The worst part and you know it,
There is a numbness,
In your heart and it's growing"