I can wait for someday-
I do not ache for companionship and everlasting love,
Nor am I prospectively naming my future children.
I am not picking the linens for my home that could be beachside or suburban, city dwelling or atop a mountain.
I do not know precisely how I will sustain myself,
Or when I will retire.
I do not lose my days to planning too far ahead
So much so that I lose sight of today.
I can wait for someday
Because some days all I need is the day I have before me.
Someday will come, and I will look back
And be sure that waiting around for someday was not the way to live out the moments until then.

I’ve seen myself in the mirror.
it’s one thing to acknowledge your existence,
and another to question your place in the universe.

I sleep with the television turned on.
While I scream, it drones.
I don’t think I’ve watched a minute of it in the last three years though, I’m glued to my phone.
We’re glued to our phones.

I don’t yell much anymore.
Lack of living has beat the life out of me.
I’d worry about what any of this means, but being chemically inbalanced means I’m prospectively challenged.
So I don’t worry about it.

Maybe tomorrow will be different.

Right now I need poetry. Right now, the gentle rock of music isn’t doing its usual job. Right now my heart feels as if it were an ocean adrift in an ocean, lost inwardly and outwardly. Its amazing how this is possible, this feeling, when we all know where the heart is: in the chest cavity. And unless you are a rare medical find, on the left side of the chest cavity, but surprisingly more to the middle than we normally think. I know my heart isn’t adrift; it is doing this crazy painful job of constantly beating. Constantly. Even when I rest, it doesn’t and while I don’t want it to stop, I feel bad, for the constant stress and strain it is under. And even as I write this, my heart still is beating, pumping, cycling, but this time with a bit of pain…a wave in the ocean within an ocean. I’m not a fan of poetry, they lyrical word confuses me. I prefer, long, arduous prose, to the lyrical word. But right now, something primal, animalistic in me, needs poetry in the worst way. It prospectively feels like Gatorade for my heart. Which may I mention is still beating. In one of those amazing moments of life where I realize how amazing something is, our heart is the most astonishing thing. It goes for years, with out stop, without rest. Without a break. It is an amazing thought. The only thing I will do for that long is live…Its just a weird thought. But honestly, this ocean within an ocean is killing me. I need poetry in the worst way.

Out by thy window to Hope
Thou seest, but the green sigh.
Hope for all other life shimmer,
As dark black consumes thy nigh.

Yet, thou resort to vile tirade, for
Samekind breathing thy exhaled air,
In knowledge, indictment just a mirage.
The anger merely reflection of a fear.

Do thee then, think in retrospect ?
Or do then, prospectively act ?
What shall be thy salvation ?
When thou deny, what is but fact !

Killing thy way to the top, Human.
Death ,destruction; ever on thy mind.
Why then do thee hope for revelation ?
To thy fellow never, thou were kind !

Ignominious downfall imminent,
Epiphany written on the wall !
It takes a toll to be sentient,
As thy numbers grow; to fall !

Nature can sustain only so much,
Thy ignorance, avarice as vile.
Preparedness never for this coming,
A war against all you did defile! Yet,

May thee rise from ashes, resurrected.
Sustenance, compassion_ thine aim !
All is not lost, if thou realise this,
Viirtuousity: thy only saving dame !

The following initially crafted approximately three and a half years ago and presently brought a  much sought after surge of satisfaction while meandering along the information superhighway.

Panglossian Perspective
Pivoting Poze Pretentiously

Pacific, pacifist pampered papa
parading par excellent paragon
parent (parenthetically parochial
particularly partisan) parvenu
passive, passionately paternalistically patient,

paunchy, peaceably pepped, perfectionist,
perceptive, perennially perky, permissively
persevering, persistently personable,
perspicuous, pertinent, phenomenally philanthropic, philharmonic

picturesquely pious, pioneering, piquantly pithy,
playfully pleasant, pleasurably plucky, plummy,
poetically poignant, politely pontificating, popular,
positively potent, powerfully practiced pragmatist,

praiseworthy, prayerfully precious, precise
predominant, preeminently preferable, preparedly
preponderant, presently president, prestigiously
prevailing, priceless, princely, principally pristine,

privately privileged, prized,
proactively procreative,
prodigiously productive, proficiently profitable,
progressively prominent, promisingly prompt,
prophetically propitious, prospectively protective,
proudly proven provocative,
prudently psyched, puissant,
punctilious, punctually purposeful pygmy.

What is as it is
Simple plain truth
Anything that deviates
Invented and creates
An impression to the contrary
Is a lie
No truth to be Mended
A story told out of imagination
Giving a wrong impression
Non existing in reality
Is a lie

A lie is told
Reasons can be manifold
Not in synchrony with
Ones own harmony
Out of fear  
Of reaction from another
Spiral down to situation
Unpleasant in their definition
To protect another
Cause the truth is bitter
A creature of habit
Reason not necessarily a fit
Distorted self image
Believer in his own lies
Manipulative using lies
To control emotional ties
Social embarrassment in store
Another reason to say the untrue

Biggest error in behaviour
Thinking they sold their lies
To the highest bidder
Not aware prospectively
Their lies were read analytically
Once trust lost
Not a redeemable mortgage card
Forever a suspect
No word taken seriously
Sensing rejection and neglect
Still can't change their conduct

A different reality
They seek daily
Final step in delusion
Life led in seclusion
Not trusted by anyone
Still live in illusion
Most avoidable trait
Time to go straight
Truth about your lies
Telling yourself first
Changes the lies
Told as truths otherwise