wounded...a journal entry of sorts

as per custom, scroll down and click
play, if it is not auto-playing
and then read

well, the holidays are here again
they always bring with them some happiness,
but also alot of sadness
i see all the others my age with families and kids of their own
i see the beauty of contentment
and i smile in knowing that there still exists that magic
i cant help but to feel sadness in that i didn't make it to that
i didn't get to be so lucky as to have a family of my own
a wife and kids and memories made
a bitter sweet thing to relish in seeing that beauty
and then to come back to my reality
........those winds blow strong and harsh
it's even worse, though, when i see those that
have that beauty and that magic
and still they throw it away for selfishness
or take it for granted and toss it aside
all the while there are those like me who
dream of such magic and beauty
i think i think too much
i used to dream too much too, but that was beaten out of me
too bad my thoughts and thinking too much
wasn't beaten out of me too.
i can't understand the majority of the modern world
it's ways and methods of things
i can't relate to most anything and apparently most anyone
and even in the small and few things i can relate to
i am separated in those things
standing alone in a room filled with people
screaming as loud as i can and not a single person hears
it's too bad we weren't given a choice,
before the sperm and egg cells are connected,
to decide to connect or not
to be born into this world or not
i wouldn't have came into this existence
too many tortures and heartaches and pain
of which started before i was even old enough to have a say in it all
with the needing attention and falling asleep on the floor
with the Ritalin that destroyed parts of me
and in fact can be argued that it ruined my life
i had to take, unwillingly, that pill from the time i was in
the first grade until i was a freshman in high school
doing my best was never enough
and anything i did try to do, there was always a boot
stamping down on me to stop me
and then, of course, as i got older, the destroying of my heart
the destroying of me
.....those pains are the worst of them all
i can not bear much more pains
i fear them all, the pains and heartaches
forced to sit at card card table and handed cards to play a game that
i didn't ask to play, given cards that will force me to lose
forced to play a game that NONE of us know how to play
a wounded animal will often run off and hide away
in a cave or burrow or under houses or in attics
they hide away to either heal or to die
i too have ran and hid away
my trouble is i've popped my head out a few times too soon
i should have stayed hidden away for longer
perhaps, i think, i should hide away for good

thoughts after waking up from a dream

after waking up from a dream
i decided to write my thoughts 
based off of the dream
as always scroll down first 
and click play if it is not auto
 playing and then read 

he burned his middle finger on his right hand
on a car cigarette lighter when he was a kid
the scar, lasting forever, in the shape of a T
he burned his hand by spilling boiling water on it
the blisters bubbled up for days
he burned his ankle once when a burning ember
fell into his shoe after he stomped on a fire
it took forever to take the shoe off it seemed
but the worst burn of all is when he got burned
by his hearts desires
burned by the love of his life
the world has always burned him throughout the years
in various different ways and in different times
no ashes left behind, just a loss of himself
smoke rises in the form of mental haze
fleeting thoughts and memories
a billowing pillar, overcast skies
he wasn't meant for this world
his heart was too big for such small spaces
an easy target
he never truly fit in anywhere he went
with such a big heart, it's no wonder he
was able to handle so much damage and burns
the older he got, the more out of place he felt
when he was a very little boy
between the ages of 1 and a half to 3, he used to cry for his mom's attention
but mom, having a newborn daughter, couldn't attend to him
so he would wait for her at her feet, sitting and
eventually laying on the ground,
but he would always fall asleep
before she was able to get to him
so then she would just put him in his bed.
but he had no memory of this until his mother
told him in his middle age
but it would echo in his mind
it brought memories to mind that he had long forgotten
the comforting feeling of cool slate floor tiles against his cheek
as he laid on the ground waiting
then to lift his head up and feel of his cool cheek with his hand
he often thought that it was so much better in those times
because there was, at least, something to comfort and soothe him
even if it was the cool slate floor tiles against his cheeks
and often times those slate tiles would also have puddles of his tears
he remembered talking to birds through his bedroom window
eventually learning how to whistle to call a flock of
birds to the roof of the neighbor's house
he always dreamt that one day he would find the beauty of life
and live in eternal peace and love, but eventually that dream,
turned into a torture, a fleeting aspiration that, like all the
other aspirations and dreams he once had, he had to let go of
the world has been at war with him since the day he was born
but he is tired these days.
oh
    so
        tired...