19SpaceCowboy91

Like the beginnings of most situations I start, a creature in the dark. Ignorant feet, given first initial steps taken Blundering around for a bit, here and there. And then from the dark, and in the dark, Mind reaches out with grasping, handling things. Illumination coming in the form of language. With a play of style about it, word patterns and rythmes make these lights all the brighter.. The Shades are colorful, sight greater and greater.. lights brighter and brighter, Vision wider and wider.. Until I can see what lays before me Your story, Written out and animated. Compelling me through its motion, you lead me by my minds tethers. And show me through your formerly dark waters. Weather swept up and created, painted atmospheres, sketched characteristics, drawn out beautifully.. A life size portrait of your world. A thousand words later, and I’m left breath stricken. This is a world, in front of me. The most beautiful thing I will ever see

I’m 1 in 7 billion. I’m seriously not the great. I think that’s why, Whenever I think something great, & godlike is happening to me, around me, Whatever it may be. I automatically surmise it to coincidence Basic chance. But, I’ll tell you now.. I’ve also met falsities before I’ve seen the lie portrayed as a dreamy “truth” And been 98% convinced, But then the 2% fall is the answer and now I feel like a fool for ever giving space for the bs. Choosing doubt, and giving way for pessimistic reason, It’s a lot more relevant to things at hand, than some would have you believe. They say believe in things you *“can’t see”*, I would tell you now, don’t ever not believe in those things you *can*. Your insightful yes. But now let me also tell you to; be logical. It could save your life. Realistically in more ways than one…

Sunny side point..; up. A chance upon my natural senses A sunny point fourth of an inch, and then an inch more turned to the lefturn east of my natural compass upwards to spacious blue tones of the atmosphere, where transparent waters do pour. I was led to a conversation, on high in yellow hues, but still the whiter shades of a bright sky. You ask truthfully. “If I can’t have me, and you can’t have what you want, can I have me?” And what can I be expected to say…? I’ve never been asked that… I double back, in consideration. just the premise of answering that I suppose, Just might be the mark of the first inch. “Progress!!!” I wept. And condensed into Stoney contemplation. Not because I was holding the answer above my head, but because I needed the waters in my heart to be kept… let their material seep deep inside the container of my spirit. Holding them there, the feelings roll around in prominent cycles of thought And an answer surfaced in maturity, Just 1 & 1/4 inch to the left - not a whole lot… An answer finally found, or rather, was around. Formulating in my mind, complete acceptance of your wholistic design. :)

I hate your exclusion I hate your exclusion! It’s so freeking unfair! You say I’m the problem before you say I’m a solution And it’s so freeking unfair. So unfair. In this twisted world that we are both apart of With hands by the billions but nobody willing to reach out You can’t understand how lonely this feels? You can’t understand how abusive this feels? Be it human to look for ways to separate, ration their love? This division cuts me hard, like a blade across my soul. Resulting anger bleeds into my veins, and my mind dissolves into toxicity. But I’m just a number in your financial scheme arnt I? You had no true intentions of caring about the story behind my eyes Your caught up in the currency of your own fluency, be it to continue itself ever on, ever flowing and your fluent language speaks fast flowing debris through rapid rivers You can’t catch the small spec of debris that I am… You have no time to read and discern the words I have to give you… They wash away as soon as I give them to you So why should I bother caring? A vicious cycle of caring and not caring, and I suppose I’m at this point brought to the later. Settled on the bottom of the river, I will live until the day I don’t. Go ahead. Run on. I’ll exclude you too.

When you see Works that you know have some meaning endowed You look up and consider That, the artist must have been thinking to himself. “How can I fit large amounts of my life’s meaning, soul, and spirit — Into this small container of an art piece.” Art dosn't have to have meaning, no But when you can sense that it does And you uncover such meaning It seems you have uncovered some vast existential ocean That you can now look up far into the depths of a star lite sky a sky of another time a sky of another place and watch a whole different universe unfold and exist in front of you, twinkling and glittering with meaningful light, beautifully beheld, but secretly kept.

Was it my destiny to be with you? Idk…. I really don’t know It could be, it could not be. But if it wasn’t it wasn’t. That’s plain and simple. Nothing to sweat about. But it was good to know you just as a friend, In case that be the case. Which it may be. And that just might be better. I find it better to let the waves flow, Let the wind blow. Let the fire burn, and the trees grow. I wouldn’t call you a large rock of my life, Not after just sighting you twenty four minutes ago So let’s not say that we were fated for this moment. For us to meet here in this random spot, With our discernment and intellect pointing three hundred and sixty degrees of direction. That fate was meant to chain us to this coincidence, see us wither a dry in all our toxic differences, And drown in an ocean of regret. We would not work in the long run, a child could see… You don’t see a future with me to be a happy one, So why call it destiny?

I Run the race of no winners. Really,…. there are no winners, let’s be real. I point the pointless point system, ever onwards.. The end result is as I would expect.. Shame, and dysphoria ..with the truth of my reality All the while, …I shudder and shake at cold nightmares spun from Fort Knox, Long for the placid lands of my hearts normalcy; But have no steady beats, and true breaths to get me there. I’ll piddle and peddle in withered distances without the breathe to shout Flounder in only a few inches of water deeper than I can stand in to be able to breath air But hell if if I can figure this green paper dichotomy out And I think the truth is.. I don’t want to.. Somehow, I somewhere in myself believe that the nightmares I fantasize about, will some day come to get me Through the very same trophy I yearn to hollowly achieve.