Subjection

I'm amused by, a mind so abused that.

A heart so fused, with an eyes creative  ruse.

Could feel and see without much to loose.

Except for an infinite fate that could ensue.

I see faintly the objections, but my heart and mind feel cruel subjections.

From what has been left after rejections.

I pick up the pieces with no detection. I try to make a trivial but felt correction.

In an ominous place.

I give the world a taste.

With the expressions that lie dormantly vibrant on my face.

It's not as if I dress myself up in satin and lace.

Trying secretly to incase.

The reality of my true destruction.

An eternal battle of a personal injunction.

Something so trivial such as an informality.

Has lead to be vibrant reluctance to your secular morality.

Plenty places left broken and bruised.

But who am I but human to remain ultimately and infinitely confused.

So I sit up high and also very far below.

Watching what It is within that I'm meant to sow.

And I hold my breath steadily until my eyes and mind begin to blow.

And I live my life according to the unusual flow.

I wrap up "your rules" in a small box and bow.

And I throw it as far as my reach can possibly go.

Because believe me trying to adhere to "the" schedule of must happen lifetime phases has never made my imagination glow.

So I'll go ahead and go.

Because I'd never let my mind, heart and eyes sink so low.

And who are you to tell me.... You know.

Rabble:Babble

It’s been a constant battle.

When I begin to ramble.

My thoughts turn into a senseless line of babble.

I try to piece together the intangible seams.

Of the thoughts that fly by on endless reams.

Opaque foreseeing memories that exist only in my dreams.

I’d like to make it all real, but that’s never been the deal.

So I close my eyes, clear my mind and begin to feel.

I let my mind hold me against my will.

Time passes without much consideration.

Making my mind a constant declaration.

Of a thoughts perception of an imperfect description.

Of a dream that seems to be an unvarying revelation.

Trying to open my eyes without much precipitation.

Solely pushing me to reach my fullest amount of elation.

By pursuing the things that don’t cause dilation.

From what it is my mind has pushed me to see.

So when I awake I just solely return to the fundamental me.

Hoping that everything wasn’t solely a dream.

That maybe in some way I could see.

How to make it real, how to be.

What it is that my thoughts conceive, me to be.