Sunrises

Popping packets of chemically designed artificial flavour.
My one addiction.

I don't crave the high,
just the powerless feeling of crash it brings.

I've seen 3 different moons
in one span of time,
never blinking for longer than a second.

Sometimes, the mind will ignore
the need of the core
for the allure of understanding.

Sometimes, it needs to claim
that there's reasons that beat
the need to sleep.

Sometimes,
the friends of the imaginary
abuse these moments
of their only true freedom
from their new "cell".

Whatever may happen,
it always results
with a touch of lunar sanity.

So, it's just better to have alternate outs
to break this trance.

To visit the world within my dreams,
and let the rock in the sky
fade from view.

Bottoms up

"I have this joking belief"

I've carried it,
past shame and pride,
past judgment,
past understanding.

Many would ask,
"Why put trust in a bottle?",
While being blind
to their own reliances.

They complicate it,
making the items godly.

Maybe I have too.

Maybe my own rules
must be set where all can see.

Maybe some more
shall put their fake faith
on some metal and glass.

And maybe we'll be able to share
all these outlooks
on this world.

Cheers.

[Before you take a sip,

read the cap.

If it's a prediction,

watch for it to come true.

If it's a command,

no bad can come of it if you follow it.

If it explains who you are,

accept the compliment with pride.

If you sip of it before you read,

it's magic is lost this time.

And if you obsess over obtaining the next and next,

it will be lost forever.]

Smoked out idea

Fuel for fire for fuel.
That's how the cycle goes
Converting energy until
we find it suitable to fulfill need.

I stare at my recent test,
noting the carbon residue
that sits on the half
I forgot about with pen in hand.

Do hobbies fall into
hierarchical form,
no matter the importance,
the instant meaning?

It's a double barreled question,
one that should be double checked
before ignorantly firing off
at a foggy target.

Such heavy points
could sink into treacherous waters,
and if not checked before thrown,
treasures could be dragged down with it.

Sometimes, friends connect interests,
or throw them to you as salvation.
If we can measure the method,
can we measure the user?

These thoughts come
moments before charred meat
reaches my nose.
An irony of sorts.

Lets just say
cycles never finish.

They take breaks,
but they continue, someday.

The questions that drive you mad
need to be left to the side for a time.
Less they repeat over and again.

Is this piece of writing
cyclical or linear to you?

Better question:
can you read it?

The small with big plans

"Working life will become more varied. Try some new ideas."

The intention was never
"get rich",
"be famous",
"live easy".

Nobody can claim ease,
and fortune, popularity?
They fade.

The goal must always be
something worth putting out.
Something to leave
for those who need it.

"Change Something"

That's a goal to follow through.

No matter the person,
they have something worth giving:
An idea, a solution, a view,
of someone new to keep thinking on.

The world never takes large steps,
only small ones
that take them somewhere new.

With such big feet,
the planet would die
if it tried to plant it's foot
from beginning to end.

It's no race, anyways.
We'll get there one day.

A leasurly pace is not one of the damned,
not moving doesn't mean not planning,
and only when feet are on fire
do they burn what was behind them.

Ending's reveal

*warning, one swear word*

This time of joy and excitment
could have happened smoother,
had I not been a shadow,
but instead a doer, a mover.

But I just waited for motion
instead of causing the trembles,
and that, I must confess,
left me alone with my rambles.

I abandoned some in an attempt
to forget a memory I once had,
but I would have undone all action
had I known just how sad

I would be. It's just...
a perfect example of lack of foresight.
A lack of links just makes it simple
to lose connection outright.

To others, I've just ignored
or let them slip to the side.
Maybe I know something,
like we'll end together on this ride.

But it's wrong that I did so,
I knew it fully at the time.
But sometimes instead of caring,
you just need to bite the lime.

And as for the few
that I wanted to stay,
I failed at that, too,
and it all just faded away.

I lie in a white room,
just questioning myself,
a finger trap to trigger calmness,
to make some space on the shelf

of inner mental contradictions,
collected from far to there to here,
and now that they're pieced together,
I have my plans and fear.

This life's full of labels,
and I hate it constantly,
but sometimes it's nice to give
and break one, just occasionally.

Pansexual is one such tag,
so hardly looked at and understood,
because, while it has so many extremes,
it's hard to separate bad from good.

If you really boil it down to basics,
it's just a love for someone for who they are.
It's not just about bits of skin or some situational in,
or favours, regal, a name off afar.

It's about their intentions,
their heart and mind.
What they plan for going forward,
and what was intended to be left behind.

And that's why loving friends
isn't some off ideal.
It's a want to stick around with them,
and it's just as possible as it's real.

But some times, imposibility
is not a facade.
Sometimes, acception
has to be the end to roads made...

At my bedside lies a placeholder
that contains lies to cover truth.
Just something to make mind dormant
with a few proofless proofs.

...You know what, fuck the bottle.
I'll bury all those self made amends,
pour out that deceitful drink,
and sleep naturally again.