Submission.

Once again a duplicate of a repitive writing that is wrapped in apathy, just an excuse to drain the remants from a forever dried wound. This confrontation between mental negativity and positivity has drawn on long enough and I simply call it quits. I could not bring myself to continue to adhere to repetition any longer, the same story was once again written by an unfair author. Dissapointment has ran me straight into the ground but I have misplaced my motivation to stand up. Never again will I place myself in such a regretful and difficult objective, never again will I attempt to barge past what braces against me. If there was a way I could go back win I would step right up to it. From this moment on I will sit upon a peak high enough to become a sky-like color, anonymous to the common eye and silent to the ears that don't even listen. My previous task was something I was never prepared for nor cut out for the job. I submit my forfeit through regret...........................

Release.

I only fantasize to be an infatuate reflection, one that looks back with a smile and wears a shatterproof exoskeleton. I never plotted to be a pestering magnet, I just sensed a scent of brightening excitement. The surrounding problems never played a role as an issue, I hold an apathetic approach to them, unlike the common walking man I have an entire world of patience. time has been passing by and now it seems as if the movie screen has become blurry and worn out. Could this be sign to a next step or a letter ceasing it all? I can only wait because I am at a negative amount of options. I can make one promise, if this risk is taken it will not leave a feeling of remorse or regret.

Air

Who would've thought one could possess such a passionate spirit in the two palms of their own two hands. Of course one is ignorant as to how to utilize or handle this beautiful power other than to inhale its scent, to stack an inner colony of working class emotions. A desire to just head out to where no man is found, to exhale everything discovering what ability lies at hand, to connect inner breath spirits to the unseen characters ignored and ridiculed by modern mankind. A true feeling of peace and relaxation, the soothing sounds of the surrounding environment, the wind which populates the area's atmosphere revives tension on the soul. Such an exhilarating definiton of relief....

To Enlighten Starvation

Terrorism has taken over a peaceful area located on the south eastern edge, directed at one individual. No others are affected or even notice the mayhem rumaging around them, just that one person who walks with a permanent question, "Why?". When the terroist are truly just a imaginate scare created by the soloing walker himself. Along with that proven reality, the terroise is lead to just be troubled thoughts wreaking havoc throughout his brain. The only divison separating this victim from insanity are the incredible noises which enters his mind through a selection of six senses. The more sounds of beauty enter his ears, the more compressed the desired releasing becomes. Transporting to the north or south east islands appear to be a setting appropriate for the wander's burst. An empire is building and time is passing by with no way to hault seconds the bottled spirit begins to grow too large for it's inner cage day by day. He continues a search for one like oneself to merge, to form twoself, he finds clues, he achieves but something is always raising a barrier. Some sort of ghost, no a planned happening just continues to reoccur and this desparate child falls submissive by the sorrow. The un-fair mishaps tear right through his heart and he reaches that burning point of boiling. The travel to those side-located edges begins and once destination is reached, the breathing begins. He fell to his kness, looked upward, extended his arms, and scream "Break me from alone!"

Skruge

This land populated of dislexic knowledge is cremating my spectating imagination and is spiraling me into the well consisting a confrontation with a reflecting ghost. Shock overcomes any other thought or emotion battling to reach center attention to the mind. As if that one tale based on the end of every year is selecting me as it's main character. So I stand in place as this burden to those surrounding me and I am being taken back and forward to view choices, consequences and regret. The only difference in my epic than the famous written metaphoric tale is I've done no wrong, I have committed no act to where I should be smitted by remorse. A lesson in incorrect choices? I still have yet to find wrongdoings in any of my past year events. What appears to the first person point of view is maybe a relieving break-off from a streak of greying cold....

Lullwater

Three hundred and eleven, the sanctuary number engraved in our desires to the past. If only those walls's construction could have been completed, unfortunately the holder of that growth made a sour departure. Imagining the experiences from that deleted future sends images of a gift to the imagination. Homeward bound for us all, what just might have been true, although the upcoming held divisions and conflicts would certainly push a rushing difficulty into this once known unity. The correct point is, a stronghold was processing, a home to house the ones who at the time came in a tiny portion. Central point was just an addition to the pleasures of this ideal indoor paradise to what these individuals grew up on. Unfortunate events lead to an end or maybe just a delay, the younger generation may hold onto what's next....

Symbolic Melody

Spin-offs jump from thought to thought in excitement at a new found idealistic practice. Of course these artistic paragraphs sprout and grow from the spectrum of the heart and troubles. Explosion moves upwards spreading a quilt with color qualities awakening the spirit, the great spirit of creation. An introduction of similarities brings this imagination to realization of what power is held and what value it may consist of. With less than experience and empty knowledge an inked feather from warped electricity takes place on the plate and works some kind of magical lettering.

Rose

This conversation, has just swallowed it's last suffocating breath. Deadliness devours a rose in a garden of daisies. Climbing this cold skyscraper to re-gain a flowing heartbeat but with the strife to height, descending follows a pattern of repition. The arguement becomes quite tedious and I flail my arms in submission but the scent of this rose just sucks up my resistant tendencies. The calendar flips, the approach tends to become uneasy, the situations become uneasy. Although knowledge of certainty is held the difficult boundary in speak stills tands tall and mighty. Negativity crashes down on top and the spectrum of onward movement is expected to carry a weight, a weight too heavy for any man, but will make do. I attempt to utilize these direct handed opportunities and I imagine I follow the correct procedures, atleast to my ability, but this field begins grow larger every letter. Then I stop- completely freeze in position and realize, the overdo requiring two view has been late for a double now and that is the key to the lock that's been placed on this unique discovery. All that is in need, the question of engaging the act....