Listing words in a for gone nature of loneliness
Sitting in the cloudy mists of sadness; echoing thoughts that bounce around in my head looking for the tiny hope of escape.
Nothing goes as they search desperately bouncing off its peers hoping for the elation they should expect to feel with freedom. But alas, there is no freedom in the dark dank cavernous dome that is my mind, my brain, my heart and soul.
There is no freedom of this lurking borderline depression that I can't shake. Weeks and days go by without a release. I see things in the misty silvery gray black that I was so use to. But now, this old friend of mine seem more like an unwanted stranger invading my glimmering hope of fantasy and happiness, tainting it with its sadness. Tainted.
Blood black flooding through my spirits and my veins draining the happiness from me. All that is left is the empty shell that once was empty before.
This is a new kind of mutated emptiness that I never felt before. Borderline. Just a sense of blah and rutting in a standstill of petrified livelihood that I am to live day in and day out.
All my desires are gone, my hopes, my dreams, my ambitions. Gone. Lying dormant in this fragile eggshell just waiting for that spark of life to bring it to the excitement that it has the potential to become.
Patience is a virtue that I once had, but now is lost and gone as I get angrier and angrier with my old age. Tempers flare over the minutest of minute infractions of life that should be just left as a passing thought.
Boiling heat and blood turn the timid in the hulking rage that I am experiencing with my envious color. Hulk.
Turning the repression into action of kinetic force transmutating it into rage. Rage full of angst that I thought was gone out of my body my soul my heart without hesitation. Fixed to the point of release from commitment. Done. Gone.
But I was wrong, like I've always been wrong about things that I rush into without thinking. Upon experiencing and thinking is when I truly find the exact nature of the experience and realize that it isn't what I bargained for.
Going back to my roots, going back to my hometown of the Forbidden City in a glorious historic land. I find myself drawn to my grassroots of home, of China and all things Chinese.
From music, to movies, to books, and mainly to family. All things Chinese; things that I am longing for.
I will fill my empty clinical colored apartment with the things that bring a familiarity and color to me. Pictures of family, friends, drunken moments and just things that I have taken from long ago on my long lonely journeys of soul searching. I will fill it with useless trinkets that I still feel is useless but it brings a purpose of fulfillment in an empty place that needs to be filled to make it feel like a home.
I long for home. I long for a home to call mine. I long for unlocking a door that is mine, entering a living room that is mine with my precious dog to greet me as I enter.
I long for my own life full of pleasure and pain and life that I forget that I am alone and wandering listlessly searching for the time in my life where my life will officially begin.
Just riding on the train to nowhere's land of waiting and searching and just strict cynical contemplations of life and love. Where is my life going to go?
I have everything there is to see. I have; even though I have never set foot away the west coast since I first came to the west coast, but I have all there is to see. I've experience all there is to experience.
What is left is the long wait for the quiet peaceful sleep. All is left is the enduring of life and the fulfilling of my purpose of dying when it is time for me to go to make room for my posterity and others. Just a wait of waiting in the game of life.
Nothing goes as they search desperately bouncing off its peers hoping for the elation they should expect to feel with freedom. But alas, there is no freedom in the dark dank cavernous dome that is my mind, my brain, my heart and soul.
There is no freedom of this lurking borderline depression that I can't shake. Weeks and days go by without a release. I see things in the misty silvery gray black that I was so use to. But now, this old friend of mine seem more like an unwanted stranger invading my glimmering hope of fantasy and happiness, tainting it with its sadness. Tainted.
Blood black flooding through my spirits and my veins draining the happiness from me. All that is left is the empty shell that once was empty before.
This is a new kind of mutated emptiness that I never felt before. Borderline. Just a sense of blah and rutting in a standstill of petrified livelihood that I am to live day in and day out.
All my desires are gone, my hopes, my dreams, my ambitions. Gone. Lying dormant in this fragile eggshell just waiting for that spark of life to bring it to the excitement that it has the potential to become.
Patience is a virtue that I once had, but now is lost and gone as I get angrier and angrier with my old age. Tempers flare over the minutest of minute infractions of life that should be just left as a passing thought.
Boiling heat and blood turn the timid in the hulking rage that I am experiencing with my envious color. Hulk.
Turning the repression into action of kinetic force transmutating it into rage. Rage full of angst that I thought was gone out of my body my soul my heart without hesitation. Fixed to the point of release from commitment. Done. Gone.
But I was wrong, like I've always been wrong about things that I rush into without thinking. Upon experiencing and thinking is when I truly find the exact nature of the experience and realize that it isn't what I bargained for.
Going back to my roots, going back to my hometown of the Forbidden City in a glorious historic land. I find myself drawn to my grassroots of home, of China and all things Chinese.
From music, to movies, to books, and mainly to family. All things Chinese; things that I am longing for.
I will fill my empty clinical colored apartment with the things that bring a familiarity and color to me. Pictures of family, friends, drunken moments and just things that I have taken from long ago on my long lonely journeys of soul searching. I will fill it with useless trinkets that I still feel is useless but it brings a purpose of fulfillment in an empty place that needs to be filled to make it feel like a home.
I long for home. I long for a home to call mine. I long for unlocking a door that is mine, entering a living room that is mine with my precious dog to greet me as I enter.
I long for my own life full of pleasure and pain and life that I forget that I am alone and wandering listlessly searching for the time in my life where my life will officially begin.
Just riding on the train to nowhere's land of waiting and searching and just strict cynical contemplations of life and love. Where is my life going to go?
I have everything there is to see. I have; even though I have never set foot away the west coast since I first came to the west coast, but I have all there is to see. I've experience all there is to experience.
What is left is the long wait for the quiet peaceful sleep. All is left is the enduring of life and the fulfilling of my purpose of dying when it is time for me to go to make room for my posterity and others. Just a wait of waiting in the game of life.