The Veil of the past has plagued me. Hope is not a kind friend but a torturous pit in my stomach. This yarn of pit yanks my soul daily, no hourly. The only relief is the surge of passion of establishing the crisis of my realty. How can one go from being a thoughtless bumbling sack of youth to a drowning wander gasping for air. I feel the need to paint this picture for all the people that aren’t hung on the wall. All the people that are courageous enough to go on with their failure of days or foolish enough to not see the truth. I plead subconscious that my ignorance can be my forefront so that bliss can rain on me. Oh How i burn with jealousy right now as i look, no wallow, to those who can bumble and fumble with their gut simply free. Free of the agony of being more than just a something. Past philosophers wanted to end the agony with an escape that brings forth the highest form of control. The only form of control that fate says it does not touch. However I deep down feel that the changing direction of the wind can be encompassed, taken advantage of. To enjoy the attempts and fails objectively, out of body. To be broken and feel it but also snap out of that moment for a second to observe the moment in its intensity, and better understand life and then as if not broken continue the moment. Every day seems to be a different feeling, its a wonder people still become surprised anymore. Its should be EXPECTED to take be aware of the unexpected or at least be aware humans are a walking surprise and ignore it purposely so that you may carry on your day.
I ramble but these are the Leaks.
