Upon returning home
The cobblestone greeted me
But, every brick
Every layer
Turned from hollow and grey
To flesh-ridden, staring eyes
Looking with interest
Wondering where they were
I would say, mere curiosity
But these eyes
Looked upon me
With shame

It was an accident
He forgave me for it
So, why does my mind...
Harbor a grudge?

From birth
I was given immortality
Never able to die, unless defied
By traumatic injury, to my earthly form

It gets lonely, staying so long
I've discovered lands, traveled across seas
But when it goes indefinitely
Achievements go from celebratory  
To mandatory

All things have an end
I only wish
That I could have one.

Inadequate quality
Leads to faults
If only the mind was treated
Like a factory line
Then blind disregard
Would lead to opened eyes

Old heroes
Come into view
So too, does harsh reality
Age comes experience
Of which, they can no longer use

Misadventures
Fun to laugh at
Horrible to engage in
Chuckling at misfortune
Yet no one else can see it
Sad sacks bring back hacks
Fame off of misfortune
No wonder we're cold
Our hearts have become strongholds

Luchadore
Actor
Entertainer
All live out life in masks
To give blind entertainment
But when the veil becomes you
Surrender to the mass
For when it starts to slip
Ego trip ends, judgment begins

Irritation and demand
Two core characteristics
Of a citizen
Turned criminal
Yet, we all are like this
The only separation
Comes in the methodology, the execution
The very same concept
Directed by a violent excursion
Cause when backed against a wall
The only way forward is force

Impressionable minds
Latch onto broken ideologies
When the ship sinks
The captain escapes, on their backs

My foot
Was caught on a dream
For I had built a palace
Much like my dream palace
Yet, it looked nothing like it.
The unending freedom of imagination
Came crashing down
Giving birth to dismay

At first, I was shocked
Now I am old, it is the standard.

The end of the world:
By alien invasion
By viral outbreaks
By global war

We entertain the hypotheticals
While the real cause
Remains unchanged

At the end of time
We shall continue to bicker
Remaining fickle
The sun rises then sets
Everything, a beginning, and an end
Our final act is coming soon
But instead of a theater
It is near you

One day, I took a vacation
Tired of the suffering
Stress
And hysteria
So, I traveled across the world
To a country, filled with hopes
Upon arriving, I saw:
Suffering
Stress
And hysteria...
...
I no longer take vacations
For the view was good
But the atmosphere, a façade.

Intense enjoyment
Blocks out reality
After years of such
Here we are now.

When I was a boy
I wanted to be a cowboy
Holding fate in my hands
Alongside a revolver
Filled with instruments of destruction
But now, I am no longer a boy
For the only way to be a cowboy
Is to be a boy
And never grow up.

To **** the past
Is to never learn from it
How can we **** the past
When our future is already dying?

Growing old
Growing up
To notice the difference, say "shut up"
Then witness the path
They have embraced

Remaining static
Leads to stagnation
Remaining overactive
Leads to burnout
With all things in life
Balance avoids decay
Turning stagnation
Into administration

My friends
Think of death as not an omen
Perceive it as what it truly is:
Natural
Change can bring terror
Sometimes, laughter
But death is change with no transparent effect
It is like all change
Why do we fear it?
Because we can not control it.
But, is that so bad?

The dreary weather
Pounding against the windows
Entirely impractical-
The windows I have: entirely imaginary
My train is due to come
A stowaway, I am.
The only soother for my wayward will

The most dangerous person
Doesn't wield a gun
Brandish a sword
Or **** back his fists
But someone who displays
Excitement, mixed with nostalgia
On one hand, a turnaround
On another hand, a catastrophe

The ignorant
Want to live forever
The public
Want to keep living
The wise
Never wanted to live

Down below
Entrenched in a trench
Of barnacles, sea cucumbers
Denizens of moist seas
Lies a single figure
In the form of a statue
The symbol of a man, looking toward the sky
Hopeful expression, rusted by nature
An idealist at rock bottom, lying to himself, in wake

Members of death
A deathbed loses its sting
Once death takes over
Maybe, you sought not for death
But for rest
Yet, you still seek death
For once your rest ends, frantic life remains
Permanent rest, sweet in nature
But once it take hold, a bitter center

If I became
The king of the universe
Would I care for those who reside in it?
All power, all in my palm
Able to reset everything, to dust...
...
If I had a family
Would I care for them?
If I had a son...
Would I want him to live?
If I had a loved one...
Would I care for their single ounce of affection?
If I had anyone...
Would they care about me?
Can I have a typical life...
If I know the reality of it?

Stars, planets, asteroids, comets
All know their place
So, why am I the stranger...
Amidst a crowd of friendly faces?

I honor the beach
Yet abhor the heat
Could it be, personal preference?
Or no longer, enjoying warmth?

A creator
Must have a drive
An optimistic outlook, one who strives:

To change
To evolve
To fix

But much like fire
A creator can create, or effectively destroy

No matter the delusion
There will be those who

Die for it
Sacrifice for it
Hope for it

We all have delusions
Some are aware of them
Others never correct them
Above all else:
The ancient art of trickery
Ceases to end, bitter, like chicory

Radiant, cool eyes
Freezing surfaces
With a single glance
Petrification, at an instant
The desire to bond, constant
Not possible, mutant

The child--
Believes in extremes
The adolescent--
Changes on a whim
The adult--
Understands the truth
The senior--
Has neither time nor energy to change it

If only they communed
With one another

Ruination comes not from exterior forces
But interior quarrels

A man with a grey wardrobe
Found himself in a void
Neverending
Ever-present
In front of his person, a mirror appeared
An image manifested, a child appeared
He knew what this was, so the truth appeared:
"When I was a child, I had time, but no resources."
His reflection appeared in the mirror
"As an adult, I have resources, but no time."
A photo of an old man in a living room appeared
"When I become an elder, I will have wisdom, but no one to teach."
A photo of an extensive graveyard appeared
"When I pass, I will have a legacy, but no one to remember it."

Dancing in the street
The unkempt, unruly man
His personal parade, of song and dance
Does his music
Sound like ours?

The man woke up
Looked toward his reflection
In his vision
Was a human, with a beetle's head
His wife of several weeks
Unleashed a gasp
"Why has this happened?"
The man replied
"I have become Insecta, my true self, a pest."

I could change it
But I am one man
A group could change it
But they would be silenced
A generation could change it
But they are part of the system
Humanity could change it
But they are unaware of the problems
Someone could change it
But do they exist?

You are deranged
I am sane
The correct camp is mine
...
Right?
Unless we have fought in vain
Millions dead, inflicting pain
For an idea.
Yet, our idea is correct...
Right?

Rolling sunlight waves
Drifting toward the coast, me
Stay, I will return

Grim reaper's howl
Spares no one
Yet when the reaper comes
It is always a shock

Always a brawler
Could have become a scholar
An impatient imp

Searching for
Alien hominoids
When they are already here:
In the sea
In the sky
Within us deep inside
Even people like us
Seem so foreign
Martians exist down here
Can't understand them? Must be aliens.
Can't reason with them? Must be aliens.
Can't control them? Must be aliens.
All those who oppose with poor prose must be labelled so
Not my rule, but it still remains

Skyscrapers
Towering above our heads
Reaching out to the sky
Trying to touch the sun
As the ones below
Live knowing they cannot

Hubris wrecks buildings
So one day, they will fall
For none can scrape the sky
Without breaking their foundation

Idealism, the evolution of optimism
Idealists need to remain cautious
So their wings
Do not burn

Talk is cheap
For upper echelon jobs
Talking is a paycheck

Compassion for one
Compassion for none
Give it to someone
Before they all turn and run

As I get older
World gets colder
All I can muster, crocodile tears
Numb to the cries
How can I harmonize when tragedy is normalized?

Victim of the cortex
Home of the addicted
Behavior overtaken
Turned into a lifestyle

Children are not a medicine
Bring one alive to drive the bloodline
Not to cope, think before acting
Care for one, don't use one

For you
Now...
For who?

Homeless, without a "home"
Yet, the earth is our home
Love to take care of our "homes"
But not our home

Black man
White man
Asian man
Hispanic man
Love to point out the race
While discarding the man

Looking out
At the vast universe
Not for analysis, for answers

Silence:
An absence of sound
Still conveys plenty