Pondering

A deafening roar, the crash of the spray
The blood in my head, it pulses and thunders

Thunders like a drum
Like the one in me

I can only live today, to work for my bread
The breath I take, it may be my last

Lasting in me
I scream for more

Post existential, possibly transcendant
What shall become of me, within my life

Selfish desires
One just like me

I walk a shadow, my footsteps light
My deeds go punished, I know not why

Others who fall
Used to it as they are

I try to comprehend
The lives others live
I try to understand
But the silence is so loud

In my head
In my head
Oh this confusion
Simply trying to be

In my head
In my

But the silence is loud

A Boot Shaped Poem Again

It's always the same thing, isn't it?
The dull grey that occurs afterwards
The hangover from emotional letdown
Always the same thing, time and again

Like a boot pressing down on your trachea
It'll fill you with wonder and light, only to hurt
To break, to rip and tear your very soul out, yet
We are constantly attempting to feel it again, unable
To differentiate between the true feeling or a facsimile
But rather, it's something that we seek, all of us, whether
Or not it's something that we actually need. In fact, some
of us are better off without it. So is it our biological endeavors
That pushes us to consistently try and try again? Are those who
Burn out and fail, never to try again, better off than we hopeless ones?
We romantics, sensitives, blind to the pain that even now haunts our weary
Hearts ?                                                Then let it be, and let it hurt, and simply
Do    as                                                  we can to let it hurt, to revel in that pain
and see                                                      to the pain never lessens or dulls, but
rather,                                                           that it hurts simply to remind us that
we are                                                           alive, a thing that we take for granted.