Room to Breath

      Words are meant to flow,
                      To the left,
            And,
  To the right,

                               With a standard,
                   Deviation,
                            of what is acceptable,

        On a computer screen,
                                 Much like books,
                  The margins,
                              remain the same.

                                     But on phones,
                     Smaller tables,
                                   This meaning is marginalized,

                            And can greatly effect,
               The authors work,
       
                      Jettisoning words,
                                   Has Meaning,
                                                                                                           Its pause is,
                                                                                The attention needed,
                                                                                                     To cypher,




                                                                                                            distance,
  
      

Patience

     To be patient is to realize that nothing
                                                     is permanent...

             That change is a way of life,
                               For better,
                                      Or,       
                                    For Worse.

                Its also being satisfied,
                                      With your synchronization,
                             in the ecosystem,

          Where one finds,
   fulfillment,
               with the daily mundane tasks of life,
                    While enjoying all those
                     sunrises,
                            and sunsets,

         Its realizing opportunity,
                                 The forks in the road,
                    and having the foresight,
                                         To think ahead,

            Which helps when paired with,
                                hindsight,
                       the learned behavior,
             of risk/reward analysis,

                               However,

                   Don't fray when
                                     your patients runs thin,

                           Because everyone loses,
                      At some point in the pendulum,

            Its what makes us human.

Building

    paper
       rubber chicken,
   and flies,

       nothing makes sense,
           when your,
       fabricating,
            lies,

       Brick and mortar,

    only cause disorder,

                of a natural state,

Deep Space

     Dreams
  are moments,
      among-st the stars,

            But,

            You'll never touch them all,
       stuck in a ball,
                on an endless loop,

             You must,

        Say goodbye,
 To everyone,
                And everything,
           You know,

    To risk it all,
           to  become a,
                   know-it-all,

      On a desolate world,

            Hindsight,
                     is,
                        your
                     only
                       consolation,

          When reality
                comes caving in,
       and your all,








                       Alone,








                But in this darkness,
         You'll understand,

                             How sunlight travels,
                     at its constant rate,
 
            How travel effects,
                      your timeless state,

                 How gravity sealed,
                             humanities fate,

                          How

                                     distance

            delays,


                  a response







                               from


the


       rest
                         of                          
                                   the


                             world......










                        But believe me,










                Believe me,









                               Believe me,
                 





























                           Your not alone.

The Ward

          Reading my dream journal
                           Over the past year,
     this caught my eye,

   The walls were black,
concrete,
         and cold,

           A extensive hallway,
    dimly lit,

           By low hanging,
                    dangling light bulbs,
               illuminates the way,
       
     With each step,
              your footsteps echo,
         racing down the hallway,

     Bouncing off a set of swing doors,
                 As a soft buzz,
            corresponds to the flickering of a light,
                          
           The doors open with a loud creak,
                       As a sound of shuffling paper work
                marks your arrival,

    "I'm here to see patient 237963",
                           I state casually,
                               As the attendant froze,
     
        Again?
              His voice visibly shaken,
                              "You barely made it out last time",

            "Don't tell me how to do my job,
                          I say venomously I reach his desk,
                   slamming my fist down,
                                Grabbing the attendants attention,

       "Now Is the patient available"?
                     I pause but continue without waiting for an answer,
                                "Or do I have to come back later"?

                   "Have it your way, But I'm not going in there again",
                                As he reached for a button,
                         And the bared door,
                                            Swung open,

                    Satisfied,
             I walk through the door,
                          Feeling the attendants eyes,
                  Burn through my back,

                   No matter now,
           I have bigger problems ahead,
                                   Then a frayed,
                          Relationship,

              I Need to get my head right,
          
                        Eyes are everywhere,
                    In the ward,

                As faces peer out though,
                        the cell windows,

                 Their demonic eyes,
                                   constantly curious,
                             To visitors,

             I reach the patients cell,
                          breath deep,
                   And Let my mind go blank,
              As I press the button,
                                       Open the door,

     A loud buzz,
                Unlocks the door....

          The room is pitch dark,
 When I notice,
          a figure in white sits facing the opposite corner,
                    Her body in a straight jacket,

            To contain her,

                  "Back again for more?"
             a whisper somewhere deep in my mind,

                                Is she talking,
                         Or Is that me thinking?

         Don't go crazy again,
                             She turns,
                     Smiles,
                             No guards,

                 As her eyes turn red,

                  I panic and reach for the button again, 
          As all the lights go out,
                        The hallway begins to flash red,
                  and Sirens blare,

            Playtimes over,
                         She races out of the hallway,
                     Just as the door shuts,

                With great speed she's around the bend,
            In the blink of a eye,

                           I give chase,

                 She's made her way
                               To the end of the hall ,
                                  Her straight jacket gone,
                        Somehow torn away,

             I notice blood dripping down her mouth,    
                      As two guards lay,
                                      Sprawled out on the ground,

                            So much blood,
                  So little light,

                                As object wizzes past my body,
                       Impacting the wall,

                                A syringe,
                                            Is she trying to drug me?
                                   Am I just a snack?
                                               This was a horrible idea,

                        I push a wooden table over on its side,
                                                                  as more needles hit with a thud,

                             Protruding through,
                                         I charge using the table as a shield,
                                    Thud,  
                                                 Thud,
                                           Thud,
                                                    I need to watch where I put my hands,

                Its not long before,
                       I slam into her body,

                                But I don't stop,
                                           Until we race into the window,
                                   At the end of the hall,
                                                      We break through,
                                               And begin to fall,

                              You will be mine,

                                               she spreads her wings
                                          and claws into my body.


(needs a re-write tomorrow)

Super Bowl

             What,
       A gluttony of greed,
                      A game has become,

    Our gladiators fight,
                   with battered bodies,

            As the capitalist companies,
          capitalize,
                    on  their agony,

             In no other occupation,
       Could I foresee ,
                      An injured individual,
             Be questioned of there loyalty,
                        Where loyalty is a synonym,
                   for toughness,

         "Built ford tough",
                        What a loyal base,
                   Of customers,
                                 Buying based on corporate branding,

                   Why doesn't society,
                             have commercials
            For comparable accidents,

        Here's a traffic accident,
              As two titans collide on the football field,

                  Brought to you by pepsi-co,

            Hopefully that player,
                              Was covered by
                Nationwide,
                          when their brain degrades of trauma,

          No one will complain,
                     At the epitome of the sport,
                 But the discussion,
                           Must be brought front and center,
                      With fingers pointed,
                                  at the correct individuals,

                    Some may blame,
             The player,
                      For accepting the multi-million dollar contract,

                         Others, may blame,
                 the commissioner,
                        As he
                             Ruins "the shield",

                      Fumbling through the drama society needs,
                                    to maintain the 24/7 news cycle,
                            And increase profits,

                         Both of these examples,
                                   However are incorrect,
                           
                         The sick individual,
                    that demand their players,
                              to preform injured,
                        for profit,

             Its none other then,
                 The owners.