Untitled #04

All of your pretty words don't do a good enough job at hiding the ugly truth. They are lacking depth.

But I just want to find some sort of understanding here. Anything that will last longer than the skips and flashes in our heads.

A feeling. Why won't it wash over? Gah, why isn't there escape, or at least pause, from all these pre-programed imaginations?

I want to create something new that isn't created merely because of routine. I want to inhabit a moment free.

Is there time?

At times

I forget to smile and laugh and live for all the people who cannot.

Or who forget to as well.

And maybe that will re-mind them to again.

rend me

Some times,
I
don't know which is worse:

the feeling that I can no longer have any meaningful impact on the world, or

the feeling that the world and all its pretenses have
so
broken my spirit that I feel that way,

even when I know it's not true.