The steps leading up to my wicked attic creak and crack beneath the weight of my transgression. My clandestine future stares back at me, unwilling to budge no matter how hard I push. Starring out of the attic window as rain drizzles, slowly soaking my heart with thoughts of you. Pounding and pounding in a rhythm matching the pitter patter of water hammering the glass. I look beyond the horizon into infinite space like my thoughts consuming every crevice of my soul. Then for a moment, I can't seem to put one sane ounce of ink to the screen. It's an instantaneous writers block, with a skid and slide as the air bags deploy burning the sides of my skull. It's as if I'm unworthy to enjoy a minuet sense of clarity. Sleep, ha.. Sleep is for the bears hibernating after filling their hulls with selfish amounts of nourishment brought on by an intense sense of self worth and ego. The ID fully content with a day's portion of personality and soul sucking. It's not the amount of money, your class, your race....it's you. When we all come freshly squeezed out of our mothers birthing canal we fight for every ounce of milk just as our ancestors before us did, some more than others with ignorance burned into their minds like a birth mark. We lay swaddled and warm with this monster growing deep inside, our brains unable to comprehend the true madness but it's there, bidding it's time like a cancer waiting for the right stimuli to bring its rearing head right out of our chest. Oh the stimuli we receive. Be number one, have the nicest things, find the most beautiful person to procreate as TV and radio burns these images into our very existence, we slowly transform into the most selfish mother fuckers. Consumed with fucking, eating,  killing, all for the sake of living life to the fullest. The stool I'm standing on to reach the highest window is starting to splinter, it too is reaching its limits, widening, adjusting until it can no longer take the circumstances it's been handed. Again I'm grounded but only for a moment, that is until the sides of my skull stop burning. 12:02, 12:02, tomorrow so much to do. 

Always a change in the tides... 

Light illuminates the brain waves..

Miss the comforting sounds....

Can't hear them anymore..

Time has come to set sail...

Progression is like the wind...

Sands of the hour glass descend..

Grains multiply building a base..

Stepping stones of lost time...

My mouth hurts, my face hurts, I have bites on my legs and some bumps on my stomach. I feel like things are crawling on my skin. Is this my brain finally succumbing to years of abuse? Am I merely stressed out from planning my exit in two days? Is this the torture I must endure to deem myself worthy of such break from all my responsibilities? Then so be it, I deserve this break.. 

Right into the future I go, slowly drifting... 

Still enjoying the present, each second.. 

Typing away on an invisible keypad.. 

Trying to make sense of this reverie..

Nothing makes absolute sense though...

Everyday a new take on old concepts..

Erupting in a spasm, changing my course...

When you accept your fate, you win...

When you accept your fate, you lose...

Contradiction riding your back, jerk...

How can you create this doubt within me..

Want to close my eyes sinking into dreams..

Escaping reality, a second, minute, hour..

Fantasies in my head filling childlike voids..

Then I see it, the light creeping in the lids...

Eyelashes can only hold on for so long..

Open the flood gates, let the forgotten in...

Feel the blood spray, we've lost good men...

Young bucks grinning, hunters on the loose...

World keeps spinning, can't we have some truth...

Swimming with sharks, safety harness attached...

Living amongst the dark, I'm the deadliest catch...

Once again we meet, Night, you bring so much excitement but so much anxiety. Every molecule in my body skips and plays when you come over. My thoughts on the other hand, wonder how many times I will hit the snooze button before running late; yelling and screaming at the children to do the same exact list of minuet responsibilities passed down to them every single morning for the past one thousand ninety five days. Your endless possibilities illuminate my imagination, if only I could be as loving when the sunlight peeks its head over the Eastern skyline blazing an egotistical path of traffic jams, caffeine and money hungry whores. Anyways, I love you, you dark, ominous, star studded stud… But fuck, only five hours till the first alarm goes off. Good night, Night.

Solitude seems to follow my soul. It creeps over my shoulder whispering sweet nothings. Telling tales of deserted islands and long walks in the center of the Sahara, as mirages fill my eyes with the breath of another homo sapien cruising a desolate isle of boxed foods and plastic wrapping, enclosing poison filled mulch some would call food. For a second, lost in a trance, I forget all. Fingers move slowly then quickly as ideas spark the central nervous system pouring out images from the depths of the abyss protected by skull bone. Although, another source of finger twitching can be a result of the meat sack guarded by ribs and muscle pumping life and love through this carcass. Both working simultaneously but in a sense not. Always in a game of tug-of-war when it comes to feeling and intelligence. Is it possible to meet in the middle? How can we expect another human being to meet us in the middle when our own metaphysics can’t seem to align within us?