Time being empty

Time being empty
Time being spent
As the sound of the clock
Goes tick-tock.
It echoes through the busy streets
The chatter of people
When friends they meet
The clock still goes
Tick-tock, the sound of the clock
Reverberating sound
Endless.

Waking up with a disjointed feeling

Waking up with a disjointed feeling
Lack of coherence and continuity
When "Everything is fine"
Is both illusion and reality
A choice between placebo
And the bitter medicinal pill
Yet reaching the same results
Making it all the more sick and deranged

A cruel divine joke
Or just our bodies rattling the cages
We cannot be anywhere else
But where we are
A sense of finality
With the passing of thought and time
Where all human thought
Pass off into illusion, memory, or history

It's somewhat surreal
How we stand looking at the world
Feeling the pain
From the fang of a real beast,
Or the throbbing pain
From a sword thrust
A mental wound that bites into flesh
Yet none of them seem real,
Yet they seem vividly real to me.

A cut without the blood
A prison without walls
Yet they are invincible; impregnable
Without escape
Touching the walls
Feeling only air
Seeing the horizon
The boundless sky
Yet no freedom can I find.

About words

An utterance that is made real...
Is a creature given life
We are the gods of creation
The conjurers of our own destruction.
The double-edged sword
That both protects and destroys
A invention cursed and blessed
With the magical power
To heal and malign

One may call it marvelous
An interesting condition:
How a sound can reverberate
Through the ears' cavity
Long after the sound is gone
How a word can bounce back and forth
Create an endless echo
In timeless time
Trapped inside forever
By the walls of a hollow heart
Owned by a ghostly soul

Chagrin creeps carefully

Chagrin creeps carefully
Stealthily, slinking, sneaking
In moments when the mind
Meanders in its memories
Selecting one's solitude
For a surprise visit

Words betray our loneliness

Words betray our loneliness
The voice of another
The beating of a strange heart
An existence of which we're not a part
An alien rhythm
A weird concatenation of the sound
Of a stirring beating filled with life
The audible orchestra of dark and light
Which inspires attraction
And breeds repulsion
The sound of another beating heart
Which may sing of joy
And can also wail in oain
Just as well,
Or even better than you or I can

Vice is the key to life

Vice is the key to life.
Addiction the genuine mode of being
Being absorbed from one emotion to another
From emotion to emotion
From affect to affect.
Can we define lost
As absolute lack of direction?
No.
Emotional gluttony
Is the vice that gives meaning in life.

Where is thy stillness?

Where is thy stillness?
Be as steadfast as the mountain
As peaceful as the brook
As graceful as the falling leaf

Let the wind carry you
But not scare you
Be as stern as the cliff
Facing a stormy sea
Yet let no anger possess you

Defend thy tranquility
With fierce aggressiveness.
Let no aggressor be
Themselves be oppressed
Be kind
But by no means be weak