Impossible Dream

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Impossible Dream

What if I try, whether or not I believe I can accomplish it, whether or not it’s even possible? Assuming it is impossible, the attempt is still something which can be performed even if the desired result cannot be obtained… right? And is it possible I might learn from the attempt alone? Learn just enough to apply it in other areas of life? Is it possible that just the want, regardless of how unrealistic, is enough to push me forward in life?

Then let me not forget to have an impossible dream, for all the steps are still possible and chances are they’ll improve something else.

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Weed Control

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Before, they took your weed to keep you on edge and get you to agree to war.
Now, they’re giving it back because you’re too on edge and you don’t let them do what they want.

Mellow down, don’t worry about it. They have your best interest in mind. It’s not like everything they've ever done was meant to benefit them one way or another. This one is to help you.
It’s all good.
You’re paranoid right? Over reacting? Is that what you’re told? It’s your choice and they’re looking the other way. That’s truly what’s going on, right?

Okay.

Weed Dreams
As It Seems

 

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Addictive Tendencies

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...reminders of green rage and a broken emotionally unstable heart. Forgotten doubts and regrets rush back in, desperate to be felt by the numb.

Enthusiastically cynical, boiling iron runs through suffocating veins. Natural clouds in unnatural locations, yet, they’re the crazy ones?

Hypocritical denial rooted in clear awareness that the user quickly becomes the used. The plant is alive and a parasite in need of a host willing to indulge its delusive existence. Brainwashed, its family is invited generation after generation to feed off of fresh thought, motivation, energy, oxygen and God knows what else.

They wear the host down convincing them this is their normal state, their desired state, their baseline. A suppression effort to erase original normality...

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Reflective Realization

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Lost between who I thought I was and who I think I’ve discovered I am
A brave warrior attacking for no reason or a coward always in defense
Regret nothing or live in denial
Hate “them” because they’re lost or because that’s how I feel compared

As time goes by I have to wipe these tears from my eyes and strive to get by because eventually I’ll just realize I was wrong about who I was inside, again.

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Delete Blank Pages

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Delete Blank Pages

...and work until it starts to shine. Through word play and multiple drafts, one sentence turns into many. They become paragraphs with meaning. Purpose. A message.

Before long garbage turns to gold. Words exposing the soul. About who I am. About what I do. Even if its fiction, that fiction came straight from inner truth. And I’ll hate it more than anyone around. They’ll love it because it was not made by them. But they got to see the things about me that I can’t express any other way. And they’ll like it even more if they relate. Because like me they struggle to say what they’d like to say.

The doubt in my ability to make things that’ll last and people...

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Exhale

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The one thing I must consistently remind myself is that it’s okay to write something simple and light hearted.

Stressless.

Not every paragraph, sentence or letter needs to happen in a frantic existential crisis. It’s alright to move slow and write something meaningless. So long as the writing is enjoyed as often as it’s hated.

What good comes from existing in a perpetual panic mode?

I’m glad I obsessively refresh my thoughts on a regular basis. It reminds me to catch my breath and just let my mind wander from time to time.

To keep it simple.

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Repressed

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I fight them back whether or not I try. Emotions suppressed by lie after lie. Self-deceit, mainly. The want is to let them out. To be free from the contained pressure. It’s toxic, less like oxygen, but more like carbon. Pint up, the closed container is shook and expands to its limits. Representative of someone young never allowed to be a child. Curiosity punished by ignorance leading to a path of destructive addiction. Not being able to let out what is felt leads to wanting to feel nothing, instead. Not all who wander are lost. Some of us are just hoping we’re never found.

 

By Jack Thomas

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It is that it Is

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It’s pathological.
The total absence of divisiveness.
Undeniably a diseased illness. The surreal stillness of filth. Equilibrium is ideal if you can attain it, but regret maintains its chill. Down defenses and the manipulation is made obvious.

By now you’re thinking either this is a truly profound revelation or completely meaningless gibberish. Well, you’re right.

 

By Jack Thomas

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Love

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It’s pleasant to not be alone in my bed.
Her heartbeat keeps me warm.
I’m clear minded and with purpose when I’m with her.
We lay there, pillow under my head, her head on my chest, and we wait.
No thought other than how her arm feels across my chest.
I can feel her smile, relax, be happy.
That’s enough for me.
That’s really all it takes.
If I can keep her this way, if she can be this person forever, and this moment never ends, it just keeps going and going… I’ll be happy.
I’ll be fine.
If I can find the formula and assure we stay like this, in this state, this mindset, I’ll know for sure I’ll be happy.
Only if she is.
Whatever it takes.
Is it love? Perhaps.
 

By Jack Thomas

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