I want to write about the futility of love and emotions.
How it is all utterly pointless.
We are all going to die.
Every stupid human being is going to die.
Being married, having a family, taking care of others and being in school will have next to no meaning.

Death is an impossible wiping clean of the slate.

If there is "luck" to be found in faith, things will not be the same.

But still, everything as it is will be gone.
Dead.
Erased.
Burned.
Made new.

I don't enjoy the pain of my body.
Nor the fear and guilt in my mind.

Something new.
Something old.
And this world is broken and used.

I want to believe, hope in love...but my faith is so weak.
My emotions so scattered on the winds.
The easiest choice in the world would be self destruction.
Not temperance or choosing to not numb the pain.

Maybe it's righteousness.
Or maybe pure stupidity.

I miss...

It doesn't matter who I miss.
It all ends the same.
But...the hope is that the end isn't an end.

New beginnings, God I so desperately cling to that hope.
Nothing else makes any sense.
Has, can or will make sense.

Redacted Processes

I've got nothing at this late hour.
Just empty bottles and exhaustion...

I have reasons to smile,
a couple to cry
and every reason to live
and just a few to die.

What more can I write?
What else should I say?
The words were never mine,
the path was sometimes a choice
but everything
is heading to a climax,
something unseen.

I won't be sitting with the haughty,
laughing at the end.
I might just be in the background,
pushing on
and hoping to bring some help,
a touch of healing to this diseased world.

Words.
Words.
Words.

Proper use and abuse.
Too much and too little,
with everything You have ever seen and lived.

Dreams and poetry,
hope with broken wings,
flying over jagged glass
that has overflowed into waves.

Breathing can be difficult
from such dizzily heights
and hope for nothing and everything.