i had shoes to fill

walking barefoot now
can't tell north from south
but no split hair's gonna get me down

i can't really explain the state i'm in. how it is i'm feeling. my throat clouded with residual phlegm, unwanted from all too easy to catch illnesses. my persistent lack of an immune system. my head is clouded with song lyrics and images of clean homes, fresh interiors that i want to surround myself in. i know i'm experiencing something like a fresh start, the feeling of a clean notebook. the school year nearing an end, closure, i need the smell of summer need its noises in my ear. still amazed with how far the push of a year can lead you. how one launch can take you such a grand distance. so far away.

besides my ever lasting struggle to stay concentrated, i think i might be happy in this position. not leaned back, i'm fairly upright. but tired. so tired. the impossibility of getting out of bed. the ultimate challenge of knowing what it is i want. the struggle to make every page not look the same. to make every day a different color so when i look back on this shinning life it isn't dull, but a radiant scheme of these myriad emotions that seem to follow me everywhere i go. the intensity that murks up yet clears the waters of my daily triumphs and victories. it is the little ones that matter.

the blatant rejection i feel just waking up every day. the murder. the fear of being terminated by larger, unforgiving forces. the constant nicotene and poison that surrounds the air i breathe. the temptation. how much danger is too dangerous. how do i know if its good for my health to take this risk or if it is the next step i take that will lead me spiralling downwards. into the dark pit of the sweat dreams i wake up in the middle of. the pistol painted on my forehead of a strange danger i was previously unaware of. the consuming darkness around the corner waiting for me. that i must be omniscient to predict. the consequential failure that could happen so quickly i had better keep my eyes wide open, sleep on my back so i can wake up easily to find the culprit, the seed of truth that will linger to find the criminal. well aware the criminal lies within me. in constant fear of broken plans and failed attempts to fly. failed attempts even to try.

my throat is dry weeks later. living in a tension dream filled with nonconsecutive images. not continuous. and im in the middle of radical self discovery. in toning arms and doing what i am supposed to. what is good for me. maybe i will one day get a surge of energy. and i will wake up free of the pain i seem to have been born in. the ache i seem to be attached to, at the hip, permanently. so i seek relief, in things non-toxic and beliefs self-perpetuated. that somewhere in the spiral of my subconcious could exist the key i am missing to understand my eclipsed view of this universe. this little slate of being.