ideas flowing from gray matter
I can feel it, pulsing-wanting to be let out
How can I? When I can barely write what I think onto paper
from mind to pen pen to paper connections lost
I wish it otherwise, let it fly
Change pens, I have tried
Change books I have tried
Type on slow keyboards, watch as my fingers fumble
what instrument conducts the mind
better than a pen?
I’ve fought with a language,
Clichés, biases, present tense,
Blah Blah Blah,
I’ve fought with my favourite medium,
Everytime I write,
I can’t seem to love the same artists do,
I fight, then I write,
I’m stuck with English.
The diffuser is diffusing,
The air smells like the colour,
Blasts of citrus,
White vapor that pours out,
Just smelling like sunshine,
I’m craving orange candies,
With a side of orange juice,
All because the blend is called Liquid Sunshine.
With the terrors of West Nile Virus,
Malaria, Tick fuelled terror,
I think a mosquito bite is fairly deadly,
Little red bumps that don’t itch,
But I scratch at them,
Then they swell into horrors,
The size of toes,
Horribly red, and so annoying,
Yet I scratch and make them worse,
Four on my leg, one in the crook of my elbow,
Come on, I only wore dark pants!
Being bitten by a bug,
How could I go like this?
-For those who live in cruel cycles, step upon step-
There are traces of feet,
Ditches made in the golden sand,
Curves from the sides,
Flattened sand, these feet have walked upon,
And we follow them,
Through history, through eras,
We have followed those before us,
Relinquishing the strongholds,
Of the wars past,
We have stepped, left steps, gave steps and took steps,
But, we never dream of those who walk the same burdened path,
Day after day after day,
Stuck in the same cycle,
Walking the same steps,
Through the steps of their ancestors,
Their pain is lost,
To the cycle,
Until renewed by the footsteps of their children.
Everyone says try your best,
But really what is your best?
Is it slaving under low-light all night for a week,
Trying to finish whatever work/school/fun/other assignment?
I highly doubt so,
There are no standards for “best”,
All we do is try,
Does that mean it’s our best?
What if trying hard his considered too hard?
What is the standard for the best anyways?
Because I believe “the best” is simply a phrase that means: Try harder.
No matter how hard you try,
The best is only a phrase,
So, just try that should be enough.
It’s hard to change something that is stuck,
Written in my memory,
Embedded in my habits,
Do you expect me to conform to a standard,
I have no heart for?
You just never see it,
I look wandering and somewhere else,
When I’m working to help other’s ,
You think this happened,
When it really did not,
I can’t expect you to know that,
Because you don’t know,
It’s just generally hard,
To be something else,
To go back a few steps,
When you’re there far beyond,
I don’t even know why I bother.