| the park
the beach we first met
the moon like sunset drawn
orange a sky ever etched into the film
of ever spent movie stubs of a date lost in the advance
like a star of paint on canvas skies
a framed image jailed in time never losing
shine of a scene condemned to take
breaths to live on
in a present ever meant to be passed over
while too few efforts are apparent
into futures inherently
connected by a past yearning to be present
with futures that themselves yearn for
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| the park
the beach we first met
the moon like sunset drawn
orange a sky ever etched into the film
of ever spent movie stubs of a date lost in the advance
like a star of paint on canvas skies
a framed image jailed in time never losing
shine of a scene condemned to take
breaths to live on
in a present ever meant to be passed over
while too few efforts are apparent
into futures inherently
connected by a past yearning to be present
with futures that themselves yearn for
|
| |
| the linebetween boredom and contentedness seems more and more indistinguishable. Though more often than before I find myself "bored" it has become a state met with less agitation. It's not to say I don't "do" things. I've done a good enough job of keeping myself busy and at the end of the day when I sit on the edge of my bed and think about the events of the day I can safely rest without the pang of qualms that accompanies me when I "waste my time"
Nothing feels wasted, though nothing feels entirely gained. I come home and each day is like the last (save the sporadic moments of heightened emotion). but what of it. it seems as if i live for those moments of intensity and when one happens to come along I shield myself in an effort to buffer the swing.
And in the meantime...i'm bored. I'm bored as all hell.
(...5 minutes of contemplation)
It all comes back to hope
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| been more "active" than ever...some of it seems right. Civic participation feels satisfying, but to what end? Part of the key might be to feel as if you've never done enough, this way you keep trying, knowing that there is no apex to your efforts, instead to insatiable urge of knowing there is always going to be someone to help....always some cause to be fought, some unrequited passion to be rediscovered.
masochism seems old news, time to reach for them bootstraps
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| mustn't....let...the pen...dry..... 
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