The Never Ending Story..

Im looking for something.. and I know exactly what it is... It just seems like whenever I "find it", its not what its suppose to be... The road map looks like it's been tossed into the river under the bridge that i'm traveling, only to float to the top with distorted, smeared direction. I remember how the map was. I know what its suppose to be.. The design of living has always been available for view....rear-view... Tamely I rest upon the facts at hand, in hand. The wheel that that I've sat behind the entire trip, glancing at a map with tainted direction to a place that I have always wanted to go.. needed to go.. Although.. Traveling to this place can only be possible if i swallow my pride of well-being that i've created. Having dipped my only source of direction in the watters beneath the road, while still having the memory of the ACTUAL way to go... What I see in the rear-view is what should be clear view.....straight ahead...Looking back into my old future.... It isnt too late to turn around..Retracing my tracks is better than coming to a dead-end... My destination is destiny

I.D. Please... :-/

Its something how a person can manually move you from one extreme to the next....while you being like a puppet is going along with the ride (because of trust of course). What happens when you have run out of patience and decency seems so far ahead?... Why is it that time after time you allow the same demons to attack. Within the same token, allow access to those points of weakness...there is no one to blame but yourself. You have somehow come up with a radar for trouble and expect others to care. Why is it that every day you allow your care for others to turn into the pity one would have for you only because of another bad decision? Why would a company need guests to show i.d. if everyone is allowed?... Your life is sacred, not just anyone should be welcomed in because at the end of the day, they all have to leave.

Moving Hands~

The limbs of depression massage depths of my subconsciousness. So far that realization of the very effect has been overlooked by the implanted happiness. Not just any happiness, but the kind that was fertilized with the water of a well that never runs dry. The depressive weeds grow fingernails that scratch the surface of my very being that perhaps the blood from my pierced flesh would paint the roses red. Not as nearly as red as my cheeks were on that day i heard those words. Harmful words. Deadly words. With each hurtful fungus growth, today, the gasoline of my power and the match of my intelligence has set aflame every negative growth. Letting no man put asunder the work that has been established. Addressing my falls wound from a limb I grow weary and bland. As though my years of living had tripled. Very much so does the movement of hands effect me..."Tick Tock" the hands say. "Ouch" is my response with every passing second I allow they allow me to predict my steps.

WoRdS?..wHeRe??
Words can't express really...hard to find them, I just feel them.. Day in and day out, words taunt me.. Before resting my head at night, I check under my bed and in ,my closet where they creep and accumulate from my daily endeavors. ... I feel a mixture of negativity with a sprinkle of serenity, which is a good thing.. i think..All I need is a cup of ears to tan in the ray of my words, rising in a pan of emotions and ready to serve... Serve the notice of the allergic ones, I'll take the blame.. hmm must just be my recipe.