As I look up, as I do every night. My thoughts,my heart are...where. I know.  Looking up to the sky. As I do. I can't help but to...think, wonder. Are they there, looking back at me ? I SO hope so

May3rd 2013
Stream of consciousness may 3rd
I am so bored. I'm sitting at work on my break. The atrium windows cast light all around me. I sat in the shadows though. The sun heats up the whole building. It's not summer so it isn't to hot yet, but just warm. I hate breaks. They are never long enough. Or short enough. The go by like a small piece of candy. Or a chunk of cookie. It's enough to wet your appetite, but not enough to stay it.
That's how I feel about sleep to. There's never enough, and when you can sleep as much as you want, it's never over quick enough. What is it with our minds? Why are they wired to be like this? Or is it just me? Am I the only one who is discontent? Unsatisfied with what I have? I know I should be. I try to be. I always want more. Or something else. Or something different.
Only on rare occasions can I sit down. With only the things I have. Or the people I know, and smile. Be content. Be happy. It's so strange. I'm not even focusing my eyes as I type any more. I'm typing on pure muscle memory. I don't even know what I'm typing really. Just going on and on and on like my breaks. It's kind of pitiful. I love writing stream of consciousnesses. They are like a little window into the thoughts and insights I don't know I have. They keep me entertained and they keep me going.
I'm just sorta rambling as usual. How many words can one kid put on a piece of paper without simply copying out of a dictionary? How many lines can I fill? It's like one of those video games where the levels never end. It just get harder and harder, but you can never win. It's just about how long you are willing to go before you give up. Isn't that the same as what life's about though? How far are you willing to go before you give up? How many lines will you fill? I don't know how many I will, but I want the content of each line to be bold. To mean something. When I look back on the lines of my life I want to see all the spelling mistakes. See how I've learned as they change and decrease. I don't care if it all makes sense, but I want it to mean something. I want it to be read by others who are just beginning to fill in their own lines. Maybe then the jumble of letters and lines and scwigglies will make sense. Maybe they will mean something. Or maybe not. Who cares though. We are all gunna die so let's have some fun.
See this is what I'm talking about, now that I'm on a roll. Now the the words and ideas are flowing out of me as easily as light from the sun, my break is over. Now I don't want to move. I don't wanna work any more. I have to though. Which *****. Even that will be over too soon though. Why should I want time to move faster? Shouldn't I relish in it all? Before its gone? Shouldn't I treasure every moment I work, every moment I'm on break, or laying down? I think I should. Should isn't though. I have to. I will. Maybe. Who knows, except that ill miss it when I'm gone. Woohhhhoooooo skiing sounds like fun. I love the Cookie Monster. He is kinda awesome. There goes Monica again. Hmmm there's a guy cleaning the atrium windows. Monica kinda freaked out. Not even in my words do I find solace now. No safety. They are not private, but what in my mind do I have to be ashamed of? I am a gift, as is everything in the world and we treasure it all, even if some of it may seem abrasive to our eyes. Godammit. Back to work I gues. Or maybe one more line to fill first. One more spelling error. One more string of useless, meaningless **** out of my head, into this note? I think that should be about enough though? Right? I miss you. Still love you. ****. Your still on my mind. Get out. Duck. Lol

I walked a trail
through darkened woods,
climbing ever higher.
I met a man on a bend,
eating his own feet.
I asked in horror,
"Why, my Brother, why!?"
He replied through bloodied lips,
"I'm tired of the trails I leave behind."
I wept,
but plodded on,
leaving him to his fate
and memories
and slowly ran from mine.

I'd been with her
tried to leave but never could
though she aged and
left me wanting.
We once looked straight and direct
into each other's faces
but now an occasional glance
from the side, or behind a hand or glasses.
She trailed a long and tattered scarf behind her,
picking up dust and memories
blurring the pictures knitted on it
making them hard to see
or remember.
I'd chase her out the door
if I only had the strength
and desire.
It's easier to sit in the chair,
by the window
and wait for the door to close.

There in the state of solitude
She sat, her head bowed down
Looking for the vital signs of life
The soft light of dusk, caressed her cheeks

What misfortune had come to her
She knew, and only God knew
She prayed to God, dusk prayed with her
And then twilight fell upon

She lifted her head and gazed up to the sky
Then felt her worries dissolve up high
Her disquietude just vanished
Solutions came to her

Allah helped her through
She thanked Him for that
And twilight thanked Him with her
She needed this now

Those moments of solitude
Engraved upon her heart
She’ll never forget them
‘cause there, she found God!…
~Moniba.