2007 Blogs
a ticking clock for possibilities,
it is the essence of distress.
a virtual stairway of fear,
of failure, false hopes, of being outdone.
a suspension from the forgotten being.
when there is a plethora
it is always too little, too late,
obliviously wasted, still counting down,
living without touch.
worry for the insignificant,
forgetting the search on the inside,
we search for an outlet,
somewhere to place the blame
and to dispose of emotions.
the love for another vanishes,
as all internal questioning and connections
are overlooked without hesitation.
these mistakes are the liminal flaw of false being.
surrounding beauty forgotten,
replaced with processed dreams,
which are not dreams at all.
never observing in quiet contemplation,
but living in a rush.
anger, bitterness, disappointment lingers
when we live so far from the heart.
without touch, without feeling,
we are reduced to maintaining an image.
no longer do our ventures construct a being,
but this hellish time becomes the being
of a race impossible to fathom.
it is the essence of distress.
a virtual stairway of fear,
of failure, false hopes, of being outdone.
a suspension from the forgotten being.
when there is a plethora
it is always too little, too late,
obliviously wasted, still counting down,
living without touch.
worry for the insignificant,
forgetting the search on the inside,
we search for an outlet,
somewhere to place the blame
and to dispose of emotions.
the love for another vanishes,
as all internal questioning and connections
are overlooked without hesitation.
these mistakes are the liminal flaw of false being.
surrounding beauty forgotten,
replaced with processed dreams,
which are not dreams at all.
never observing in quiet contemplation,
but living in a rush.
anger, bitterness, disappointment lingers
when we live so far from the heart.
without touch, without feeling,
we are reduced to maintaining an image.
no longer do our ventures construct a being,
but this hellish time becomes the being
of a race impossible to fathom.