Lost Soul

I call myself a lost soul, but what does that really mean?  Through the course of recent events I believe that I have a better understand of what the means.  You see, I don’t really feel like I fit in, that is to say I don’t feel like I have a crowd.  I feel a need to fit in sometimes, like most people I believe, but ultimately I feel unsatisfied.  Why is that, why can’t I just be “normal”?  The problem is that normal doesn’t exist and those that fall under such a category are living a lie.  People who conform and fall under such normality are losing themselves, losing what is uniquely theirs.  Being an individual is tough and having to deal with going against the grain of what is considered mainstream can be down right depressing.  An individual may makes decisions that seem conforming to the sold out, but in reality they are conscious decisions based on thought rather than being cool or trying to fit in.  I now realize that being lost means that I am a deep thinker and am closer to knowing myself rather than conformist.  In times like these I am grateful for my friends who uphold this ideal because an individual needs like-minded people around him or her.  Forming such a bond transcends what society wants us to believe today.  The world isn’t perfect and we, in democratic society, are not truly free, but I at least know that as well as my brothers and sisters.  So I may cause many people to be angry or upset, but I am just being me and you should just be you.   

Hello Boston

Usually I just write my fucking weak poetry but tonight I’m not going to do that.  You see I’m tired, I’m tired of the way things are.  Call me crazy, but life isn’t that great.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m not sad, I’m not depressed, life just isn’t all that grand.  What I mean is that the normal life we are all suppose to live and follow is complete and utter bullshit.  I wake up each morning and go to class thinking why, why am I doing this, what is it all for?  Now besides the obvious career and financial reasons, but beyond that why, nobody seems to ask that question.  I think a lot and say very little, but quite frankly the way things are going is quite puzzling for me.  You see, through this journey in life we are suppose to or at least try to be happy and be surrounded by happiness, but in this current society all I see is pain, suffering, and nothing more than misery.  When are we supposed to be happy?  When are we supposed to start doing things we love?  It always seems like the answer is in the future, but what about right now?  Who said people are suppose to suppress their dreams because of some little fucking piece of paper that means we are smart enough to do what we love?  We live in a sick world full of lies and deception and we all need to wake the fuck up.  Technology is destroying us socially and its pressures are making everyone go insane.  Look inside yourselves and see that there is much more inside of you than all this bullshit.  I once thought that grades and being a socially conforming person was the way to a happy and successful life, but for a long time now I see otherwise.  I don’t really care how people see me anymore, I don’t care if you like me, hate me, or couldn’t give a shit about me.  I don’t care who I have sex with, if I smoke, if I drink, or if I swear too much.  We keep hiding behind these social rules that have no bearing on who we are or what we are going to do, yet we blindly follow them because someone said we needed to.  Who cares what you do or think, just fucking do what makes you happy and what feels good in the moment.  I have seen too much in last year and I’m never going back to that life.  The moment is where I will be, so if you want come follow me.  

For A.G.

Howling in the night, the collective mind has gone mad.

The naked insanity crying out for a glimmer of hope,

My generation is lost and dead already.

Wired and glued to illuminations,

The pale-faced imagination has gone to the black oblivion.

 Hiding on roof tops and around dark corners

The principles of virtuous thought lay waiting.

Alone behind a flamethrower of hopelessness,

We comfort each other in the cold dark night.

Despair and its lingering scent,

Following the partially clothed rawness as it sits silently.

Expression, feeling, all numbed by innovation.

Tears fill empty bottles of poison and we are consumed,

Drowning in our own delight.

Death is all we know and it is all we have.

The sun fails to rise on darkened streets,

And the insanity, the madness, has won.