The Thought Garden

I think I've stopped putting myself out there I go out, but I don't meet people I avoid talking to people I don't know, unless I'm paid to do it Or it's online and stress free It's not because I'm scared Or because I don't want to meet someone (Because I really, truly do) It's because I'm sick of people being interested in me Rather than INTERESTED in ME. Like me for my smile and my looks Sure But like me for so much more Like me because I'm 22 and still build pillow forts And get into tickle wars And always have sweets to share. Hell even hate me For my fickleness Or laziness Or the way I avoid conflict. I don't care Just be honest with me And yourself Get to know me And show me That you can keep up with my childishness And put up with my love of corduroy And can be weird with me But not constantly bring me down with negativity Life's too short for that. Cuddle with me And don't get jealous of my ted...

Climacteric And what would your reaction be if I were to transmute, from diffident to nefarious? But I'm most likely too obsequious for that type of behavior. But it takes too long to explain how I'm too caught up in my inspirations, blinded by all of life's temptations, To see the danger at the end. So I'll just try my very best to entangle our thoughts together, and hopefully we will withstand this weather of tempestuousness that surely lies ahead.

Flora Contrarious There's this feeling in the pit of my chest, Growing, Spreading, Like a pertinacious weed. It take control of me, Body, Mind. It puts thoughts in my head that are so far from my thoughts of old, Wild, Crazy. It grabs a hold of me and pulls, Gently, Forcefully. It pulls me, Closer To You. L*** So you see, There was this idea, Hundreds of thousands of millions of years ago, Thats when it all started. Just a small, tiny, miniscule thought, That grew, And spread, And caught on almost everywhere. It pushed out all other ideas from people's minds. It was tyrannical, & stubborn, And drove many mad, But wherever there was lack of this idea, Became a harsh, desert of a land, where life was scarce and hope had been lost long ago. But man was not ready for the dawning of this idea, Nor will it ever be, So when the imperfection of man came together with this entirely perfect thought, Great tragedies occured. Wars raged, Families bickered, Lives were lost. But sometime...

There are feelings that we must hide, For better or for worse, You all understand my verse. We push those emotions into a box, In the back of our hearts and minds, Locked away with steel and grind, Forgotten it survives, Until one day we fall back into eachothers lives, Then the traps are tripped, And the box breaks open, Pandora's box is opened. This is the path you choose, This is the reason for my blues.

So what if I were to burn out like a star thats lost its glory, Or maybe I had none to begin with, Perhaps I wasn't a star at all, Then again stars seem to be a dime a dozen now a days anyway. What if I was a crisp, clean straight-off-the-mill hundred dollar bill, Would you have held onto me then? Or did you think I was better off as a star, That way you could wish on me at night, And forget about me as soon as your loving sun came out. I don't think I was a star, Not yours anyway, I don't glow nearly bright enough, Else I would have seen your colors in the beginning. Might it have been that your colors were under wraps, Like mine always seem to be, Wrapped under layers and layers of "what if"s, and "maybe this time"s, and "it has to work out eventually"s. Its funny how I hold up our pieces and see if they fit together, However they're all far too alike to work out that way, Its funny that your life is like a mirror to me, Reflecting all th...

"Don't make me laugh!", cried Anisa as she tried walking gracefully across the bridge, balancing a bowl of soup on her head. "God, you're such an idiot. My parents are going to love you. They won't care that you're not a debutante. They may be rich but they have the hearts of the poor.", replied Evan. "Which means?" "Which means that they don't like snobs, are very openminded, AND are very kind. So stop worrying." "Well I can't help but worrEEEE---!",vociferated Anise, as she lost her balance and tipped the bowl of soup, spilling bright red tomato goodness down the front of her dress. "Oh drat!", she exclaimed. Evan went over to her, a hand covering his mouth to try to, rather poorly, hide the fact that he was laughing. "And you! What are you laughing at? You find this funny, do you?!" "Well, love, that's why you're supposed to use a book. I intended the soup to be part of the foo...

Its a masterpiece, of imperfection, constantly shuffling, this way ----------->and that, moving in and out of time frames, up and down time lines, side to side, dodging bullets made of war and fear and sadness, murderous intent, despair, indifference, a downward spiral , but not constant, like a maze puzzle made of beads and wire, what comes down must go up again, constant in circular perfection, moving the beads until there is, a balance we are comfortable with, but we can still grit our teeth about.