I have sat and stared.
stared out upon this world, shook my head at times nodded occasionally as well.
In awe of audacity.
In awe of what is offered, in forms of bulging raging clouds, burned with red and orange. Screaming out hey look at me.
Look on,.
I know this...
It fills every pore, it oozes out and falls to the kindly cleaned floor.
Puddled.
staring back up.

I have sat here and gazed at hues no one could recreate and no one could fulfill.
If one deepest wish is to hand me all the true colors of the world, right here and now.

and at times an overwhelming sadness just sits with me.
next to me like a long lost friend and all those little evil sprites come forth, gnawing.
insecurity. trust. fears. slamming right back.
and i have come to realize I havent come far at all.
not at all. I just walked around a circle. Same chaos. Same events. Just different people along the circular path. in time and place, we all walk differently. Its that point in which paths cross.
feeling there isnt anything one could accomplish to blast off this path and onto another. it all remains the same.
Just,
just in between is a few new things, and many old.
people come and they go for sure.

I sit and gaze. I wonder. I remember. I relive and recount...and and and sigh, begin and end.
nothing
ever
changes.

not when deep down inside shadows linger. creeping about in that core of what truly lives and heaves inside. dwelling even on our best moments. waiting.

thoughts mingle with self talk, i'm okay, i am, i'm okay. convincing or attempting to do so anyways. that if i tell myself this enough, that somewhere in the head, the brain will push it along into the believable compartment.

maybe thats why i have always been a creative sort.
to paint and create and see it on canvas. to make it concrete, even if its only to myself. or gardening. something about the dirt, the mud, in your fingers. holding this tiny seed and nurturing it. watching it grow, and fulfill that need for some joy. even if it is short lived. that the satisfaction of my own creation, is enough to carry through.
where i can do this, and its a creation a sculpting of a part of myself, without having to worry about the physical end of myself.
that what lies within is thus projected out in a form i can not carry. something that yearning for, and do ungodly things, abusing ones self, etc...i can do with an appreciation that i did it. its a part of me.

sullen mood. filled with an uncertainty. a doubt. of everything. everyone.
including
myself.
It goes beyond the rationale. The "reason". grasping onto the time, struggling to keep it forward and to avail. not yet. finding that space. that one little corner, i can just be content. just freaking content.

a vain madness.

lost.

empty and a void.
Feeling as if, as if I could walk on water and it still isnt good enough.
as clouds roll in and a distant clap and a boom.

go through the motions. turn on the auto pilot and just move.

it all shall pass. it will.
it just gets old. very very old after all these years.