Sunday, November 8, 2009

What time is it?

Q: Is it 3 am?
A: It's time for awful late night poetry!

Opportunity knocks.
On a house with more than one door.

Open one.
Locking all others.

Inaction is an action.
Comprehension confirms the choice.

Sometimes the knock changes.
Creating doubts of its existence.

Worse, it was never a knock.
Everything outside becomes more foreign.

What is better?
Living under a good fantasy or realization of an actual helll?

The sun won't keep you warm on a cold day
The night can't shield you from the nearby day.

That knocking is a beat.
Reminicent of Poe's heart.

But it's vital.
It keeps you alive.

Breathe.
Knock.

How often is movement violent?
Gracefulness disguised as deviousness?
An eloborate elegance playing on the good natured.
All to hoping for it to be without alterior motives.
An accidental coincidence through accurate chaos.
Assured calamity thanks to assumed consent.
A soap opera full of dirt.


Single women like to dance
Opportunitic men have a way to romance

My mind has trouble figuring out the simplest ideas such as turning
itself off in an effort to stop considering the infinate potential
combinations of how my social surroundings will challenge me in the
next stage of a mision I gave yet to comprehend much less succeed
especially when it's more than proven that over 99% of my anxiety
never manifests.


another
banquet
celebrating the
dedicated &
enlightened.

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