Something else please

When you do the same thing

over and over

it gets boring.

Ergo I need to do something else.

Please.

A room in my dreams

There's a room in my dreams

where I keep my hopes and fears.

They come into consciousness

through whimsy or through experiences

too imperceptible from reality,

experiences that are underlined

by feelings I'm not able to know.

These dreams keep me from rest,

a locked chest in this room

that I must pick every time

I seek peace, serenity.

Sometimes the chest is left unlocked,

the being that seeks to thwart me

easing in its restlessness,

granting me respite.

But always it returns,

unsettled by the days I have,

my travails and burdens

that I constantly accumulate.

So I linger outside the door
even though I yearn
for the contents sealed inside.
For the fear overflowing
seeps out under the door gap
flooding onto the carpet
getting my shoes wet.
Hopes stained, adulterated,
its call for calmness, quietude
heeded only in desperation.

Feel something

I'm blind to the things I feel
Everything blurring and fuzzing together
A buzz, low hum of tension
Muffling my mind and making me question
If there really is something beneath it
Or is this all there is.
This nameless sensation that confuses me
Making me question
Whether I am feeling anything at all
Making me want to
Feel something

Self-acceptance?

once upon a time,
I was someone
else, who thought
different things
and felt different ways
and wanted a different life.
Now I'm someone else
with different
thoughts, feelings, wants,
and that's okay
I think

Dead Leaves

It's just a song
to be remembered
Long storied sighs
Time passing by

We lived alone
Partly together
Bound by our eyes
Stars in the sky

But the world conspires
Against all lovers
Pulling apart
With no regret

And the tides of change rise up and covers
The days that the world will forget

Blank

I can't seem to be inspired when I'm not sad
I still have thoughts
but I'm not compelled to put them down
To be boring, that I am
I can't find the special things about me to say
I don't have the urges that I need to write about
To put out into the world
All I have is the usual blandness that is
my resting state
It's not the best feeling in the world
It can be a struggle sometimes actually
It's not like the black pit that haunts me when
hard times come
It's like the gray on a computer monitor when it dinks out
Occasionally flickering, adding some variety to my day
But mostly steady
Humming in the background
A tune I can't tune out

give and receive

It's hard for me
Personally
In my personal opinion
To accept praise

I have no issues with giving it
With giving things, thoughts, feelings
Love
Affection
Affirmations
Declarations of (_____)
.......
I just can't take what I dish out

It's hard for me to believe I am
worth the words/time/consideration
After years of being unworthy
At least being told I am
I believe it to be
In my personal opinion
True
An incorrigible fact

So when I
Myself
Me
Am reciprocated
I can't
Believe it

So I squirm, I wriggle inside
My body rejects that notion as niceties
Mere politeness as they pity me in my incompetence


IN PROGRESS