Thursday evening.
I guess, I am one too many times consumed by remorse.
A remorse that know no bounderies or relates too no actions.
Perchance it is a guilt of a sinful character driven from an ill perception of a faded view of a once too perfect world that was to be replaced for a now too real world.
Tiring as it may seem, this the reality that leads me to cope with the world.
I have friends, but they seem far, even in the room.
I have family, but I can't really relate.
I have a home, but I really don't nurture it
I have a life, but I roam through it as a ship without a course, carried by an ill wind that leads me to unknown lands.
I aspire to be the best, but I do it always in comparaison.
I am too lazy to overcome my flaws.
I am too weak to actually care for who am I.
They are too busy to hear me speak about this ill perspetives but every now and again I am tormented by them.
No really problem taunts me, but I dread the scent of life
No really curse is laid down on me, but I live in the shadow of giants.
I wish I could be brave enough to change, rather than the greedy man that looks to the neighbours gold.
It is not any precious metal I am after, but I guess I have no real clue of what it is I aspire.
The love of people comes to me in many forms, but I am sick
I lay myself low.
"Lay your hands on me"
I feel lonely in the croweded city.
There is no true substance.
Tomorrow I will witness the theatre alone, out of 8 people, all of them had higher responsibilities to bare.
All of them have valid reasons.
The disease comes from thinking, that myself, I am not a valid reason.
Oh certain as there is a rabbit hole, i feel that I am sinking lower and lower, only to aspire one day to arrive to my home.
My home were my sanity lives.
My home will accept me
My home will be the happiest vessel where my soul can lay its grief and return purified.
So I write over and over and over with grief always feeling that I am the poor soul that no one gives a them
I am so tired
Emotionally
the carnival is over
it has been over for a long time
a pangent faded
no road, nowhere.
I lay here beneath these sheets of comfort burying my lovely.