What have I questioned?

Frozen eyes,
dictate.

Their clairity
mimicking those frozen ponds
of yesteryear.

They beg to see,
not just shine.

To see what lies beneath.

A web of energy,
of greater things,
just out of reach.

In the corner of the eye...

They say, don't blink.
Don't ever blink...

We were designed
with the idea
of missing so much?

Simplified:
Where's the design?

Spiralling down,
to little stars beyond me.

Coincidence,
does it work?

Is it odd that
some fates intertwine?

A part of my mind
furrows it's brow...
Another discussion may errupt
for the beings
who taunt and guide me.

Does the Mind's Eye exist?

And if so,
why do I wonder:

Is it a guide?
Or a curse?

My blue ice can only guide me
oh so far....

Down this slippery slope
I go.

Don't ask, I won't tell

The ground, too familiar,
the routine, unchanging,
the town holding too many sorrows.

My home.

"Home".

Home is too homely,
and now, too empty.

All those I once deemed "friend",
either gone, gone, or have walked away.

Such a great city.

We built this city on
many a thing.
On dreams, on legacy,
on family, on firm words.

Not all of them a constant,
as those I knew know well.

But they are something.
They reoccur.
They continue.

I can't continue like this.

What must be done,
none would enjoy
the knowledge of me doing.

What must be done,
is so unruly,
that it has no return.

What must be done...
Will be done, and soon.

And I can only hope
that I can say goodbye,
for anything worth doing,
is worth doing fully.

And I can't say I understand it,
myself.

I dream

Count the cents?

A perfect need of
everything.

Tally the time spent,
spending the spending of time...

A penny in the piggy
doesn't equate
a fraction of family's sight.

Never work hard for freedom.
After all, it's a given.

Find what you like,
and there, you'll find contentment.

If only we weren't so blind
to not find it
when we awaken.

Left over

Taste flowed from
the meal set before me.

At one point, perhaps.

Now, it's essence
has gone elsewhere,
leaving only the nourishment.

Cold foodstuff,
poorly mixing with
the drink of choice chosen.

The memory of the original
still flows through it,

still there...
still hoping...

Had heat been produced,
maybe the thoughts of the past
would have been warmer
to the core.

It's close enough...
it's close enough.

Enjoyed without regret,
as the cold days fade.

It'll only get warmer from here.

Plus/Minus Equals...

It's a numbers game.

The initial, the stats,
the weaponry...
It builds up,
gives advantage,
give the edge.

Into combat he goes,
always calculating.

The best route,
the objective,
the end game.

He bought power,
spent hour after hour
mastering feats an maneuvers.

He guides the flow of the conquest,
and is rewarded.

The king of this world.


...It's a numbers game.

The initial placement,
the natural inheritance...
It starts it all,
giving advantages,
displaying all the chances.

Into life he goes,
a blind eye to all of this.

Ignoring what could be his,
continuing down unhelpful routes,
forgetting the long haul.

He helps nothing,
wasting away seconds
holding onto his destruction.

The road has a dead end,
but he's stuck elsewhere, anyways.

The lost of this world.

Impass

We walked so far together,
grew while we strode
in this parallel line.

Moving,
not closer,
but further,
but never to
somewhere.

Each word discussed
formed a bond of trust
that we thought had no chance to rust,
for we were foolish.

It wasn't a partnership,
nor agreement.
It was just enjoying what
we had just happened across.

Each other.

But as time intended,
it would not last.

We bickered and fought,
remaining friendly outwards,
but the daggers were only
covered in cloth.

Destruction loomed.

The road proved kinder than the clock,
and a choice presented.

The fork.

The choice isn't always apparent.

To move forward,
to move back,
or somewhere new.

Or, as she decided,
to not move at all,
to stop the march
to anywhere but the end.

I can only move on,
knowing our friendship stops here.

To have it all turned about
would only be for use and abuse.

To seek middle ground
would be surrender for nothing.

There's nothing to seek anymore,
so I say the farewells never wanted,
and walk on,
my eyes to never cast view upon her again.

Tears of joy come from the right,
those of sadness from the left.

Tears of goodbye never came,
so I no longer know what to expect.

Just keep on walking.

To the pace of loss.

Furless nights await

Insomnia effects that of deep,
my personal darkness does not bring sleep.
I try in vain to bore ahead,
but wandering calls me instead.

I find myself beside a cat
that I've done nothing but tip a hat,
so with cautious eyes, he looks in mine,
and then so far, all is fine.

I sit beside him, and with no respite,
I stroke his fur, from left to right.
a gentle pur vibes through my hand,
a gentle lick delivered like sand.

I talk to him, about life desires,
and watch him close as he admires
the scritchs that he so enjoys,
and his cat-green eyes following toys.

A well taught cat, or a cat who can teach,
directed my hand when it was in reach,
he guided my hand to where attention was needed,
and as I followed the flow, the distrust receeded.

He played around, hiding no feel,
roaming around, laying on heel,
being wonderful, even with eyes so sad
gazing upon someone wonderfully glad.

I had learned of his last farewell,
his true family not here, the holder not swell,
and relocation was next for his calling.
Pushing that feel aside, my hand kept gently falling.

His pur much louder, now along side his smile
of a feline type, that stays for a while,
and while he felt so comforted and soft,
he closed his eyes, and just dozed off.

I wander away, back to my inner dot.
Still sleepless, still planless, but at least in a spot.
Unsure of the future, so I mimic the cat.
I close my eyes, and hope to leave it at that.

This World...

I'm saddened,
for no reason,
laying here,
still not sleeping.

Constantly moving,
no checkpoint stated.
Going back to the start,
often contemplated.

To fall off the end of the world...
If I could find it, I would wonder...

When all emotions hit,
does a game-changer come out to play?
Or am I just hunting
for my Polybius?

The discomfort of
replaying the level...
Summons moisture
that salts the controls.

I shall never agree to
"Game Over"

but I shall step away
from time to time.

In an attempt to find
a better game to play.

In tune with the feel

I've forgotten all,
but what you've done.
You feign kindness,
you fake the fun.

But now these tricks,
I can admit,
I've finally seen through,
right through,
yeah.

I figured time,
would sort you out.
I figured rhyme,
could win this bout,

but in reality,
you're equally,
hypocritical,
stereotypical,
victim.

Those words you arm yourself with?
You've earned no right to abuse.

Those notes with fake tragedy?
I've started to despise.

You want to remain friendly,
and yet all I can see is lies.

And even now, I give you options,
only because I know what you'll choose!

I call shenanigans
on your petty little road,
since your only heavy load
is yourself.

You fooled enough,
childish one,
so dissipate the anger,
along with the image of wealth.

Know that this is all in,
I'm never looking back
to assess your need
of help.

And it's only proper,
to attach a signature,
but I'm just in no mood,
so welp.

Down in flames

I saw you once,
before the ignition began.

Your works shall remain,
but no reunion will commemorate
what really came from
the real thing.

I heard the vibrations
(felt them, really),
as heart and soul was
delivered together.

Delivered...
for the amazement of all.

A final fire shows,
after a decade that led to goodbye,
and all I can claim to
is a five second salute.

As the time comes,
we all say our farewells.

But even now,
the meanings made
grow stronger

as the flames die.

---------------------------------------------

"It's not a funeral, people,
                 it's a fucking celebration!"
  -George Pettit