why, again?

So now what.

Day in and out the same struggle persists. The drama of it all is enough
to know that separately a calm exists

but let’s leave behind the comfort of rhyme
now.
Now what
what is held in store for one who ate, in his indulgent estimations, much too much chocolate
who is constantly redefining his identity
what he stands for

what is left for the wide eyed dreamer
what is the purpose on this hazy lazy day

I know it’s all the same,
another day
more of it. More money problems, more need for regimenting
more search for the perfect diet, and how to make it work . . .  Fill in the blanks,
their tricks are becoming more transparant. Yeah, so what i say.

what is next . I feel like today is yesterday

why again?

Another sports team, another distraction. I have seen this one before.
Why not fool myself again, though?
And is it really foolish? Or is it only experience? Is that just living life fully
Am i in denial, am I depriving myself of the bounty of experience?

Duel truths. My ego wants to tell you that many times I write naively
prompting you to react strongly - to oppose my ideas and hone your own blade

But at the same time, I write not for just you, I write for me. I write to react strongly against my own words. Put it in black and white and find myself repelled
into a place of neutrality.

Questions whose answers are silence. What?
Or is that laughter I hear? Or sorrow. A million dreams from the countless multitudes. All walking through experience with a new desire on their tongue, burning for acceptance and realization, to be found. All wanting to be held, both physically, mentally, emotionally.

Held in a bond of respect.

How do you look at every man like you love them? Strike that, how do you look at every man with love?

I start in the mirror with myself. Sometimes I make funny faces.

When will this cycle end?

My desire for the end brings me farther from it.

What is the meaning of the untruth.

Why do I make vows and why do I run things through in my mind? Why are they not left alone? I create concepts and selves only to shatter them.

I am getting used to the shattering. Perhaps material success is necessary to show that still, one is unsatisfied. Perhaps it is the true realization of ones dissatisfaction that leaves him smiling, sated.

I once wrote of the glass that I am constantly surrounded by. My small tank, my oxygen stone, my rocks on the floor, my scenery. This is my safety net, this tank is my home.

More than anything else, I want to break the glass.

I am afraid, however, that if I do so, I will be at a loss for water. That I will die.

I set my life up in such a way that I am able to get peeks outside. Or at least attempt to peak. Or at least hint at peaking. My energy is flowing towards breaking. Or at least it is occupied in the thought. Perhaps it is just more deception.

I'm afraid of drying up.

I convince myself that a safe place must be picked, that I may find myself immersed in a cool brook, or perhaps the ocean when my walls collapse.

I surround myself with my idea of what these places are so that the moment may come at anytime.

All the while, knowing that those who claim to know have said that the whole world is the ocean. That there is no thing but safety. That it is all home. I guess there is only one way to find out.

You tell me- Why, again?