Being bored,
meaning you either aren't doing anything,
have to wait
or did your task for too long.

I am waiting,
but aren't we all in life?
One person may be waiting for the bus,
the other for a cure.
Next one may wait for their first kiss,
first love and last?

Others wait their entire life for happiness
and die in regret.
Even though they have happiness right introns of their eyes,
they are blind.
Why you may ask?

They wait for bigger and bigger opportunities
and they never come.
They fight, they loose, they fail
Fail to see what is really important and right infant of them.

That they have food to eat, healthy children.
The sun blesses every morning each person
And what do they do? They ignore

We are all waiting in life for something,
but make that something worthwhile.

because every time I feel sad,
my mind tells me that it's bad,
to have feelings of feelings suppressed,
there's no difference from the undead.

of course, yes I know,
there's no cure in just one go,
but my heart - even tied with a rope,
there's a glimmer of hope

I feel a wave of panic wash over me
As another unwanted hand grabs me out of the music and loud noise
I take a breath and push it down as I let the bliss take me again
Finding myself pressed up against the boy I had met just that night
I feel his hands slide across my waist
And I know that I will soon regret this
But I ignore these feelings as I let the bliss wash over me yet again
Taking advantage of the allusive peace I feel
Even if only for a few hours more

His lips brush against my neck
I close my eyes and savor the feeling of his warmth
Soft lips find mine in the dark
People stare
But I am lost in the calm
Their judgement cannot reach me
Under this wall I have built
Even if for only a few hours more

He grabs my hand leading me away
I am suddenly reminded of myself
As my feet plant firmly to the ground
My head swirls with thoughts
But they are soon quieted
As I bring his body again closer to mine
Even if only for a few hours more

As I walk down the dark street
I brush the bruise on my neck
My hair falls over my neck
To hide the secrets of tonight
Even if only for a few hours more

My eyes open to the light
My head swirling with thoughts
No bliss to silence them
I let their judgement take over me
As I swallow the cure
For another night of peace

The pages in the calendar have been turned.
Already, I can feel the impatient earth beckoning for me to collapse and wilt.
My pen writes even faster now.

We spend our days with the grace ****** from us.
A limbo.

Cure the disease and depart with me.

oh curse the liars
the ones around me
who claim they love me
curse you all **** it
i just want to fit in
and be myself at the same time
ah, that would be gift

curse it all
**** it all
all the ones who have cures
as if i'm a monster
a disapointment
a illness

oh so i am some deformity?
some kind of freak?
some kind of animal that screams
is that what i am now?

but i won't complain
i'll stay hidden like always
like a rush on energy
an outspoken voice
waiting to be set free

It is said a trait of an
inadequate man is his
reluctance to admit
that he has done wrong.

You are human and that too
is a hard thing to admit. The
armor you’ve donned and
fastened has loosed at its
straps.

The English word care
stems from the Latin curae
which is remarkably close to
cure. I thought you might
like to hear Latin because it
was common for you to tell
me to Seize the day.

It was some summer in August
or something and the coarse
brown mound of dirt aside the
house had caught rain and
muddied.

We played King of the Hill
and I can remember thinking
what a waste it was to, for a
few fickle seconds, be royalty.

I don't hope for gifts on my Birthday anymore
Just someone to find the cure of childhood cancer
Or somebody Mother or Father to return home from Afghanistan
Remember that this life is not always about me.
Only a few will understand.