My shadow, a life long partner.
Once again returning after its long departure.
Bringing its unnatural gloominess to plague my mind.
The seams are slowly ripping apart from one another,
and I am unable to keep them together.
Contrast and shades seem to form me as a person,
it's what defines me as a "dark" radiant color.
I am unable to carry fourth and lock away my shadow,
making me its subject, a mere resource to lash out at.
Sunlight revealing my true character, for which I barely know.
A mere puppet in which commands me setting me on autopilot most days.
Am I my own demon, my own nightmare?
When am I to witness another devastating downfall,
Love and Regret seem to be of my day to day vocabulary but why?
I seem to question my ability to think and act as a human being, is it
for the sake of my sanity or the precious dream I wish to achieve and obtain.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
A New Day...
Within a few hours my body will gain physically another year to it, my spirit preparing itself to withhold another years worth of memories, pains, laughs, and nightmares. I shall again dream another dream in hopes to waking up to another place. I seem to ponder about "time" a lot, it seems to phase my mind during the day of my regular routines. I wonder why or how we age, who really determines that we are simply a number? Of course we are told we were born at such and such a time, but we were not.
We were simply alive for 9 months in our internal homes. Life is but a dream? In some cases it can be good, but in most its a bad dream, humans come and go leaving this world with or without a cause, but how do you mark an eternal placement within this world? Who will remember us 100 years from now, will we be an unfortunate race, a "lost bloodline" or a legacy of some sort that will be remembered through history but most of all in peoples minds?
We do not determine whats rightfully ours but in a way we are given a place where we receive rights and a sense of freedom?
But for today this theory shall be put to rest for the years to come and it shall once again come alive when the time is right, now it is time to lock yet again another years worth of memories into a life long pensive, that I have obtained since birth and now I've come to pay my respects and say goodbye to a forever gone friend I bid you adieu my 16 year old self. For I will never get to relive these days with you, instead I will be 1 more year advanced then I was with you and for now our playground is within our dreams.
We were simply alive for 9 months in our internal homes. Life is but a dream? In some cases it can be good, but in most its a bad dream, humans come and go leaving this world with or without a cause, but how do you mark an eternal placement within this world? Who will remember us 100 years from now, will we be an unfortunate race, a "lost bloodline" or a legacy of some sort that will be remembered through history but most of all in peoples minds?
We do not determine whats rightfully ours but in a way we are given a place where we receive rights and a sense of freedom?
But for today this theory shall be put to rest for the years to come and it shall once again come alive when the time is right, now it is time to lock yet again another years worth of memories into a life long pensive, that I have obtained since birth and now I've come to pay my respects and say goodbye to a forever gone friend I bid you adieu my 16 year old self. For I will never get to relive these days with you, instead I will be 1 more year advanced then I was with you and for now our playground is within our dreams.
Monday, March 23, 2009
A Plagued Soul
The mind coming full circle with the heart, constant doubt phasing ones mind. How are we too determine whats fiction and non-fiction really is? Why are we so determined to find failure and faults within others. Doubt seems to phase an individuals mind in the focal points of our days! We seem to strive for that all American Dream, you know the one about Gatsby wanting Daisy, but knowing in the end shes unattainable.
Why do we walk so blindly? Especially because we know we aren't ready to take that step of understanding of ones true potential? Is there reason in why you push a person, a soul, a human being away from your plagued mind?
This darkness is consuming ones self, for all the wrong reasons, its beginning to choke you and disorient your motives and decisions. Who else is better to understand you, but yourself. However how can one speak with knowledge when one does not understand his objective, How is one to understand when he doesn't understand himself? You talk about difference in morals that I seem to pertain, yet you question my persona!
You are insecure because you don't understand what the act of trust is, you fight so hard but get burned. Yet you push any predicted fates that are to come your way especially when you finally get that ever so desired taste of what it really could be in your mind. One must be willing for change. One must want a change. But one cannot be forced upon this idea, if one does not seek the change.
Ask yourself this, are you truly ready to initiate yourself in a commitment? Are you Physically, Mentally, and Emotionally stable to undergo such a path? How long can you continue this treacherous pain?
It will never be suppressed as long as its left to feed upon you.....
Why do we walk so blindly? Especially because we know we aren't ready to take that step of understanding of ones true potential? Is there reason in why you push a person, a soul, a human being away from your plagued mind?
This darkness is consuming ones self, for all the wrong reasons, its beginning to choke you and disorient your motives and decisions. Who else is better to understand you, but yourself. However how can one speak with knowledge when one does not understand his objective, How is one to understand when he doesn't understand himself? You talk about difference in morals that I seem to pertain, yet you question my persona!
You are insecure because you don't understand what the act of trust is, you fight so hard but get burned. Yet you push any predicted fates that are to come your way especially when you finally get that ever so desired taste of what it really could be in your mind. One must be willing for change. One must want a change. But one cannot be forced upon this idea, if one does not seek the change.
Ask yourself this, are you truly ready to initiate yourself in a commitment? Are you Physically, Mentally, and Emotionally stable to undergo such a path? How long can you continue this treacherous pain?
It will never be suppressed as long as its left to feed upon you.....
Saturday, March 7, 2009
Fictitious Playground
Writing to me is a Dramatic Art, an act given to me, calling me fourth to demonstrate my ability as an actor, a mere puppet in this case reciting lines that my creator has given me. As I get in depth with the fabricated plot, the story in which I begin to piece together in scenes gives life to me, and I am able to breath and speak for the very first time. I am alive, reborn as someone else when portraying my assigned character. The sounding of each word seems more, and more believable, the lights on stage giving me a physical power and a solid surrounding is allotted to me, and I am given a temporary and limited "Will" of some sort. I suppose a contracted (Right) is granted to me. However although this story seems like it can go on forever, I know that it will not; simply because all things come full circle and end.
But who determines my ending, why can't I stick with one character, one personality, one mind; instead I am recycled and reused when appropriate. Why can I not be heard forever? My sole purpose is to belay a message, I am my creators messenger, I can speak feverishly until I am blue in the face but whether the "critics" also known as my audience; believes my performance is even more vital. They are my instilled hope for my future. My fabricated heart becomes numb as it knows its upon judgment. As I wait on stage feeling like I am being tried for high treason. I hear nothing, and although it might only be for a moments time, it feels like a century has passed me by. Will I get a standing ovation or will no one rise? Thoughts in my mind begin to surge like electricity exploding from a power plant. Will the verdict finally be revealed am I to be innocent in this charge, or shall I be found guilty and be scarred with the word Failure.
Once people grow tired of me the light from my eyes slowly fade, and I slowly begin to vanish into total darkness, my stage becoming smaller and smaller forcing me out. I am to resign and take on a title of a forgotten creation; a broken character you may say. The writer has grown out of his playground, he or she may do whatever they want with their fictitious powers. Who am I to stand in their way, I am to comply with their wishes and die as told.
I am simply a writers hobbie, nothing more then a creation of their Will...
I'm simply that fictitious character who you once referred too.
(Exit Stage)
The End
But who determines my ending, why can't I stick with one character, one personality, one mind; instead I am recycled and reused when appropriate. Why can I not be heard forever? My sole purpose is to belay a message, I am my creators messenger, I can speak feverishly until I am blue in the face but whether the "critics" also known as my audience; believes my performance is even more vital. They are my instilled hope for my future. My fabricated heart becomes numb as it knows its upon judgment. As I wait on stage feeling like I am being tried for high treason. I hear nothing, and although it might only be for a moments time, it feels like a century has passed me by. Will I get a standing ovation or will no one rise? Thoughts in my mind begin to surge like electricity exploding from a power plant. Will the verdict finally be revealed am I to be innocent in this charge, or shall I be found guilty and be scarred with the word Failure.
Once people grow tired of me the light from my eyes slowly fade, and I slowly begin to vanish into total darkness, my stage becoming smaller and smaller forcing me out. I am to resign and take on a title of a forgotten creation; a broken character you may say. The writer has grown out of his playground, he or she may do whatever they want with their fictitious powers. Who am I to stand in their way, I am to comply with their wishes and die as told.
I am simply a writers hobbie, nothing more then a creation of their Will...
I'm simply that fictitious character who you once referred too.
(Exit Stage)
The End
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