Plagiarized from Lost

Free stuff
Fake it. Take it. Use it. The advantage it gives is nominal in comparison to the greed it produces when pulled from wanton dreams…. The sadness….
Free stuff part II
For those of you who once loved someone but now don’t. Good for you. Loving hurts way too much and in the end it will be your ultimate downfall.
Friends
Why is it that one’s expectations never match up with another’s? Selfish pride mingled with a touch of regretful sorrow makes a good story. I guess I will buy it.
August
August is here. Looking back, the year has slowed to a mundane crawl. The goals and dreams of many have yet to materialize. Just beyond the grasp of the menial tirade.
What left is here to show hope for the final season before us. Fall is coming rapidly and yet winters cold grasp will be stayed for but a month in time. In this small second where time skips between moments, life slips quietly by.
Why do we miss the serenity that surrounds the silence between the torn violence that permeates each act of civil justice? The answers are there, plainly set before us yet we are never to understand what it states. The reality is too real for our understanding and screams to be hidden. We bury it in the cold earth.
Will it ever se the light of day? The decision lies with each individual. Can one person truly ever make a difference in a world that no longer contains any safe places?
Make a difference if you can. Reach out, yet be wary. There are those who lie in wait, seeking to lead you astray. Forever the night shall be when caught. Forever will it lead to paths unseen. Eyes that never forgive, lost on the site of something once thought beautiful.
Gone. It lies forever now in ruin.
August is here and the slow crawl of winter’s shill is behind the next window…
Forever is a long time… Right?

This week of events has left me somewhat mystified at the inner workings of fate and what we deem important in life. I laugh at the excuses people give when I know dame well they know better, I suppose it is human nature to rationalize what we should not and live in our self-made prisons rather than face the self-made tribulations.
I expect better of some. To know that you are used only for those tough times and never when things are going well does not sit well with me. I find it ironic that I get a call only when times are spiraling downwards; "so called" friends are there I am but an unseen ghost waiting in the background to be summoned upon a whim. It is sad to think that one would pick "friends" such as those over friends who actually care. Interesting, is it not?
However, as is the nature of balance, one friend leaves another one enters. I am always appreciative of new friends and new acquaintances and for new opportunities. Life has a myriad of mysteries to offer and the crux lies in determining which path to follow. Of course some lead dangerously close to edges best left uncharted and some lead to riches untold. Others lead to wanton desire while some lead to knowledge. All can be used for good or not. They are tools crafted over time by one willing to wield the risk.
As the weekend approaches I look back and am grateful for the experiences that have shaped my reality. The pain of the past becomes distant but is a continual reminder that without a challenge nothing can be gained nor can knowledge by put to the test. Nothing risked, nothing gained.
I am reminded of what comes next, the risk involved and the pain it could bring however the rewards can be worth it… Right?
Time will tell…

Fiction may just be better than real life… Maybe…
Full circle of undeniable loss that so drowns reality will flood with torrential life rain and soon you will be swept so far that hopes of ever returning will be lost.

Stylistic Motions of an Untamed Mind
From start to finish, I find each week passing quickly as though time itself is speeding by. The metaphysical passage of time does nothing to ease what lies in wait at each chasm. Only the crossroads of twilight offer resolution. Somber at best, it brings a slight glimmer of hope in a world where hope lies buried beneath the greed of physical substance…
As the fading light of day gives way to blank unseen waves of dark, a slight coldness can be felt if but for a small moment. A calming motion of liquid fluidity caught in a stream of unending solidarity.
As dreams float to the surface, a minimal path of resistance takes the shape of past weeks. The lives of thousands racing unswept across the barren wastelands of unliving thought. Change is necessary if not always wanted…

His writing touches me in ways I have no words for. He expresses the hopes, disappointments, and reflections that so often haunt my waking dreams. The poetry he inflicts on his words brings a chill across my skin and a hint of jealousy for his talent he possess that I do not.

I just wanted to share…