Well, this the end of the month, and the hope also seems to be at its end, as considering I've depleted it all.

Oh, right…Thanksgiving…It kind of slipped my mind.

Maybe, my luck will also turn around. But I no longer can go on with this family. I just can't. They're cheap, antagonizing, rude and disrespectful. My head hurts and I just want to forget it all with a mouthful of red.

I need purposes. I just can't seem to find any, and I am not even mentioning my ability to believe in anything, including my own existence.

Slowly does it I keep telling myself. But how slow, for how much longer, and how much further? There seems to be no definition of the slow and the distance needed to travel, I am desolate and barren, left to hope with no tunnel in sight.

All these songs, lullabies and rhymes, slowly grow pungent and extreme, steepening already deep wounds and anger.

I've went ahead and done it again. What else is there left, really? Am I this despicable? I can't recognize this ambition to own within myself.

Gone and out, how much more shame will I accumulate throughout this ordeal, until the consumerist in me is satisfied? Do we all fall into these traps, or is my own weakness of being left without the clothes off my back?

Insight.

Insight, insight, insight, I drilled into my head…insight to what? Where is the insight to anything. Since when has anything made any sense at all?

Hovering all these feelings, I don't think it's possible to feel free under these circumstances with the burden of the sinner, in guilt we'll swim.

Tis the end, this the end, this the end, of my journey, of hopes and long lost love.

We've all come to the forks of the roads, the detours and the no outlets. The problem isn't encountering them, the problem is reacting to them.

And, if once upon a time, someone told me of what I had done, I wouldn't have believed it.

What's the idea of holding on? It's all a mystery and socially constructed anyway. There is no point to this suffering.

Gone with the wind, out the window and the door, into the while, where once I came from.

WE should old be counting ounces.

Love and Lust

How many poets have considered the relationship, and the partnership, some concluding its toxicity, some applauding its pangs of change and betterment. What if they never were the same, but really are one and the same?

No longer

Last of these, really, because i will no longer be posting on a blog. Creativity and thoughts have been polluted.

There will be a time even for this to end…eventually, in the brim of spring.

Pining

Some are only perilous to the sufferings of others. Pining does no good. Eventually we select the end we desire, by the decisions we've made every step of the way. But what if we weren't conscious about our decisions, their consequences, or the existence, possibility of another lifestyle? How responsible are we then?

March

Its a Monday and I can't help but imagine a cold March with ten inches of snow on the ground, the last remnants of snow before the advent of spring as the sun shines brilliantly and the birds have started humming.

What will be, will be. What is the use of worry?

Little fingers, webbing in front of my eyes, only my heart swells and aches, lost in the mirrors of life.

Today, I want to Dream

Sun is a little warm…perhaps it feels that way to me. Maybe I'd just rather imagine today and delve in my what ifs…today…I want to Dream.

Savoring the Pain

Done, and through, thorough the pain. Leave it behind, the voice screams. My bones, cage them in and hold on, to each and single mistake, savoring the pain. It won't be gone with the wind and we'll swim in this polluted lake as it grows darker and dirtied.

All We Have

Repeats, circles, wrong turns and labyrinths is all we have. No matter what, we'll never get far enough that we can leave our pasts behind. So, we'll keep coming to what we have, stuck in this field of regrets, always with the red yarn of fate tied to our individual pinkies, we'll suffer in multitudes as our sorrow grows in each others chest pains, where palpitations of the heart will take us to the other side, only in our dreams. Even then, that will be cut short by a nightmare.

I no longer can picture anything in my arms. Isn't that sad?

Inherited Love

Maybe in due time, it is possible to be able to leave this behind, even if not in the past. I do not think that is possible in my lifetime. Maybe if I had dozens of lifetimes, that could be said for it then, I suppose. However, right now, maybe accepting the fact and reconciling myself with my actions is the only peace I will ever find on this earth. If so, until then, all I can do is perhaps, one step at a time, try to move toward a future, even if I am not able to believe in it entirely, but so that there maybe times where the pain is less acute and my guilt lessoned by the love I have inherited from your chest.

Maybe, now there are nudges to feel better, at times, when all seems a little more bearable and I seem feed up with the way I've been treated at work.

November

Has it been so? Really? Already? One can sometimes close one's eyes and when the eyes are opened again, it is another world entirely and so much passage of time has occurred, it becomes difficult to account everything. Transaction seems to be lost, withdrawn, or forgotten. I don't know which one is worst.

But here's to a soft November, where my heart's ache will cease, even if temporarily under its warm glow.

Anticipating Thanksgiving

What a roller coaster this year has been. I can hardly even think back as far as January and all the trials we've had to face and the endurance that seems to be keeping us going. Throwing more embers into the fire seems to work continually in our case.

It is officially November, which means Thanksgiving is right around the corner with an expected average American's day and hectic life. Days do go by faster here, as we try to pile up so much into our days. It's almost mechanic.

I am looking forward to Thanksgiving this year. It is my biggest desire of the month to have a nice turkey dinner with some friends, some good wine and great, cheap, from Target accessories. A little orange there, a little yellow here and a bit of brown in front of us. I plan on going all the way, with the cranberry sauce, to homemade gravy, to the pumpkin pie and little notes of thanks.

Thanksgiving, here I come, in anticipation of happiness, embrace me warmly and cheaply!