Circles

We can run in circles till its over, we'll move closer to the hole, her living goal is just to know, what doesn't show, what will not grow, the seeds she'd sow are getting cold and growing mold, her dying soul is falling. out of control... it's moving slow, it's going slow, it's dying slow, like endless snow falling below the circles go, a constant flow.. the circles go....

Change

I write words. With change.
With time things change.
Things change with time.
Seasons, weather, earth, age, emotions. There's a wide range of change with time.
    Parallel they are... same plane.
They coast alongside each other. In their imaginary worlds. Flutter and flit.
Here and there. with change. stores unfold.
Whispers and shouts.
That's what time and change are about.
Even the present future makes for change, whether it be still the same.

Imagination pt. 2

It's happening again. the void. homeostasis I think. I'm getting better. A facade. it must be. Who knows. Not spiraling out of control. Who understands me? Sometimes I get lost in the things or concepts that i don't understand or even know. It's threatening me. and my existence. It's never ending. I take a hug from one source. and hold onto the energy. It seeps, liquid in my minds eye. I am parched. The seasons cry. It's all words. A figment of my imagination. The pain is only momentary. a lost promise forgotten. 

Time is a Wasteland pt. 1

The places we explore only exist within our grasp. Outside of that existence lacks luster. We rely on our sens and emotions to tell us who we are; but that is ever changing as the time that surrounds us. our experiences only have definition in the present mind, for as the moment goes by it is lost to our idea of exploration.

Imagination pt. 1

The trees sparkle and gleam
they wink and smile at me
With every airy breathe they take
I can feel my soul awake.

Tickle my dying heart, it's weary again. I've been walking, howling back at the wind. Berate me, erase me, I have to give in . Time is a wasteland created by the imagination. I walked through and left memories askew. Toys and toys filled with infatuation.