Quiet car rides

I was told that nothing here would be the same as I had grown accustomed to.
I was told by the pensive intuition I so regularly ignore with eagerness.
I smelled denial and with all the potential my heart had to offer, accepted it.

You Never Came

Painovoimaa, Valoa

The late evening of a new time has been beckoning me out for a tobacco fix.
It feels nice.
The cold, the nostalgia of the cold, and the promise of a new cold in a new place.
I look forward to these meetings with myself and optimistic futures.
I feel warmth in the safe smiles of relishing in the far away and adolescent pasts.

Nunca el mismo

Hello from the thousandth corner in the depths of nowhere we belong.

I'm too late.
Time ran away from me and left evidence of waste behind.
I ran, and I struggled to make it, but time didn't wait for me.
It never does.
This constant wants me to take a hint.
Or, two.
Perhaps keep racing against it for all laughable purposes.
I won't.
Next time, time will race on alone.

Moniter

To take this space elsewhere...
The waves of color that envelop dismay into a fresh wash, leaving only the faintist strain of pragmatism behind.
Those frightful edges that act as gritty far off corners and alleyways to keep that fresh wash in the foreground as a self prophesied predicament, making it seemingly detrimental for the dishearting semblance to reappear, as if on cue in a prevalent messy pattern.
The softness that is there to service the repercussions of the drear and distress, yet that still implicates a reminder that those dark dissatisfying attachments are indeed real, have served and will remind that they will serve once again.
And the enclosing geometry that condones the laws of external and internal motion to continue, to be superior and demand attention and satisfaction; to require that all adhere.

Residing here, never on leave, never to be mistrusted to not appear.
Yet, always here.
Always.
Not moving, unable to be lifted, to be examined upon from the bottom, from the sides, in x-ray form.
Clearly known to reside; to exist.
All that is expected is the residency of this space.
Sitting residency.

Don't Save Me

One is aware when change is venturing nearer and nearer. Everything that started to matter, and those other things that were beginning to matter are slipping further away.

Vision remains straight, if not more precise than before, when one is marching through that tunnel that leads back into the past.

Such as basics?

I would like to sleep but I do not know where to find such a thing.

I would like to read more of the book I just started, but a 16 inch electronic device manipulates my attention span.

I removed a quarter of my wardrobe from my street parked car at 2am on a Friday morning.

I think dancing would be proper being that my music library has been playing for 12 hours, roughly.

However, my freshly laundered yoga pants are ill - fitting due to late night feeds and irrelevant inactivity.

Inebriety

I saw god in the 12 pack.

I remember, let's do it again ..

Okay, I often greatly suck at change. Once I am comfortable with something, I know that change will bring upon a radical difference in myself, whether positive or negative and I feel like I lose a piece of myself when that occurs.
However, there are certain situations that call or force change, and without allowing these situations to pass through, I am instead rejecting that piece of self that I wish to not lose, by not even giving it the chance to try and make it in the world that is my mind; not giving myself the chance to grow like a saintly plant in the natural realm, or be stimulated like a machine in the technological realm. I feel these two co-exist, so I will fall into the hopes that change and originality can successfully be one as well.

I step out internally, while hoping that the color I chose for the post titles do not disturb your lovely eyes as much as it does mine.