Clear

Folder: 
The Influence

I am exhausted. Pushing my body and mind to get by and move forward as far as I can climb. The hill is getting steeper the more that I climb. Some days I want to just let go and fall into the earth beneath me. then I realize. I have been climbing for months and my feet have never left the ground. Head in the clouds. All I do is dream of flying. where am I headed? I don't even know my whereabouts. But the wear and tear upon myself is making me cave and fold over. collapsing into my dreams living in the places where I wish to be. instead of the long hours and long days with little to no reward. Not much regards to a person stuck on the bottom. I give and give until I got nothing left. Ill even give you my last breathe if I felt obligated it would benefit you more than the time I could still have left. settling in. I am trapped in these walls. no way out. I am buried between the drywall as I scream to be heard and let out. release me. Overlooked. I speak aloud just to keep me from thinking. its better than to be dealing with these inner dwellings. I don't party for the pleasure. I block out my anger with smoke and liquor. I am happy for winter. I cannot wait for these days to start getting quicker. This shit keeps getting thicker. I keep losing focus. I am content. but sadist in me wants me to set all of this to flame. Rebuilding my life once again with charred remains of things I loved. Collect all the old embers and ashes. To build a house to live in and remain stagnant and unimaginative. dual and boring. forgetful and controlling. I am a fighter. A writer. Filled with metaphors. I am stuck on my repertoires of me playing the villain and proceeding to pretend to be the victim where I come to my own defenses. as I am attacked by the protagonist witch all end up turning out to be shades of the same person. shadows. and reflections. Of myself. I am made of nothing but smoke and mirrors. With only one wish. to be crystal clear.

View adapt's Full Portfolio
nightlight1220's picture

In the piles of confusion and

In the piles of confusion and debris, somehow you have made yourself quite crystal clear through this prose. Very good!!! I enjoyed reading this!

 

 

.....


...and he asked her, "do you write poetry? Because I feel as if I am the ink that flows from your quill."

"No", she replied, "but I have experienced it. "

 

SSmoothie's picture

Wow! Feeling it all at the

Wow! Feeling it all at the moment! Perfectly engrossing write! Hugss 


Don't let any one shake your dream stars from your eyes, lest your soul Come away with them! -SS    

"Well, it's life SIMS, but not as we know it" - ยก$&am