20

Writing

Feeble-minded and in need of instant gratification we rush onto unfamiliar territories to try and find whatever things we believe are guaranteed to us. Guarantees aren’t meant for humans, we believe we own the earth, we believe we own America; we believe we own the lives we lead.

Chasing after miscellaneous dreams and profound excuses as to why we aren’t happy. This land isn’t ours, this planet isn’t ours. We’re borrowing it all to try and build these failed civilizations to simply fight one another or to push our faulty beliefs on one another.

We’re borrowing mother earth and we are constantly abusing her kindness and destroying the beauty that she holds. We refuse to take any blame for the consequences that come with our actions no matter how dire.

I am living on time that is borrowed and that I’ll never own. Time is free, time is unshackled and uncontrollable yet we spend every breathing millisecond trying to put time in a chokehold. Attempts to bend time in whatever position we desire because we want to control all aspects of our lives: the concept of time running out is the most bone-chilling concept known to man. We are afraid to spiral out of control as time ticks ever so bitterly by. Every second that passes throughout each day we become fiends for the control of time constant questioning on what we should do next because we believe wasted time is wasted essence of life.

I am by nature a dealer of words; I am by nature tempted by the supple lips of a kind hearted woman. I am by nature at the mercy of time’s existence. Attempts to cover up the sham of a life,

I try to breathe

I try to meditate

I try to alleviate my devils stress

I try

To write these stories or poetic paragraphs that merge into each other like paint droplets that create vivid new colors.

Yet I’ve lacked vivid imagery I’ve only been painting dark pictures of what troubles me and the things I’ve hidden.

I try to love with the crumbled pieces of heart I have left; I attempt to climb my mountains of fear. Broken equipment prevents my ascent and my fear of love is constantly growing.

Failed attempts at creating lasting emotions that are inexplicably real and undeniable needed for me; they shatter me.

I’m pretty lost and confused still but I know that I’m not guaranteed time but I’ll still chase after relationships in hopes of a poetic eulogy when time finally finishes its: brutal path on my life.

We are guaranteed the flow of time and death, our happiness was never promised so why do we expect so much from the world?

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