Toasting to the mind that I have,
It only knows how to cause me panic,
Anxiety, and pain.
Toasting to the death you are giving me,
Not the great job you do.
There is no way that any one can know
If I cry - is it always sadness?
Inpossible to know.
I say. I am always happy.
These tears scream JOY, even if it comes out in pain.
Watch me light her up.
Put the torch to it.
Warm it up pass the burn.
Have it close to me.
And when I breath I make it, me.
Within me it creates clouds.
Those that people say yuck to.
Those of which I enjoy.
Because in the exhale it takes it all.
The stress and anxiety.
Nothing better than this smoke.
There is - No way!
This is destined to be this way.
To look at it differently is to lose reality.
For this is what’s already here.
And thinking of what it was or could be.
Is a thought on the mind of a person with fear.
Take it for the solidness that it holds.
For your thoughts are hallow wishing to be known.
And only you will feed it your time.
Who knows them, but you.
This is what it’s supposed to be.
Deal with this first and never what you wanted it to be.
Nothing stands still and ever so slightly everything moves.
Hair super messy.
As if the wind has been waving.
Though she’s in the room - not outside.
She’s panting with exhaustion.
Definitely, she’s been working hard.
She’s definitely excited.
Though happiness doesn’t seem to be it.
The wind is not there for the hair.
The air is not there for the hugs.
The panting is not from sitting.
She’s been fighting.
Against the suctions of my mind.
Trying to bring me back.
There are many a ways
To get somewhere
But the somewhere
Is always the same.
Sometimes the rain falls slowly
And other times it has speed to it
And other times it has weight
The rain is the indication of the same thing
In different ways
It looks the same
Smells the same
But it traverses different when it falls
Like the tears coming down you face
Those tears flow differently depending on the pain.
The noise, that can be heard.
When silence is around you.
It may just be some lines.
It may just be of any color.
And it definitely may be smaller than you in size.
Those are all for sure.
But what it represents.
The real reality.
Those lines, in silence scream louder than the loudest noise.
Those lines, those numbers, are really real.
The battle field can be heard when you listen.
Closed in and collapsing.
There is nothing else in this place.
There is pressure that by any means will escape.
There’s the moment of doom.
Those of which you hope not, but still wait for.
That at any moment this world becomes unfair.
And you call in all areas for help.
And in all places you scream and no one hears.
There’s real pain inside.
Your mind and your heart is in pain, but it’s all a lie.
Gasp though, deep airs, strong will against the sudden need.
Tears flow, and for real there’s really no foe.