Sometimes, I feel like my life just might end me. I may be glad with envy, starving from gluttony while at peace with my anxiety. Psychologically, I train my mind constantly to withstand anything, while I break down over everything, feeling pressured by nothing happening.

It’s a balance between being turned upside down by other things; embracing changing myself into judging human beings. I need some sort of peace in me to compare myself with others, viewing things differently.

Don’t be mad at me; I want to create sympathy synthetically. The best of me should stimulate atoms physically, forming happiness casually. Like a phoenix rising from particles of ash, blasphemy, I concentrate inwardly to become less interesting. Cold as ice melted, bubbling, what is left moving right in me, cycling.

Alone, I loathe to be on my own in society, outspoken openly to tones that try to be where I am trying to leave. Left unfortunately until I'm ready to hear somewhere in electricity, I’m negatively charging chords positivity.

Complain about the poor, who are torn mentally, ignoring our own conditioning philosophies, teaching us thinking thoughts we caused effectively, pointing out our fingers at what ought to be's, living comfortably content within our personal circumstantial arguments about reality without challenging while doing nothing about whose faults it is?

Is it the bottom or the top of this? We see the middle's got a lot of mouths to feed with as much as a little bit of what’s allowed to live but can’t get out of insanity’s madness, doing those same old things, expecting extra change.

Think in new ways of thinking but not being seen. Action, I mean, it seems to be a missing puzzle piece. No wonder our thoughts are lost in forever dreams, sounds of crowds surrounded around sharp edges to breathe.

So I know that which is right is consumed by what's left in me."


© Travis Dob