There is a cloud above your heart, directly where the blood should be pumping.
There is a puddle beneath your heart, directly where the muscle should be contracting.
There is a flower besides your heart, directly where veins should be sticking
There is a smile within your heart, directly where the life should be starting.

Imagination, raw, unsettling things.
The shadows that your body make, when the swing motions back and forth.
It's beautiful.
So is it wrong to wish you were the shadow? That you could be so outlined, defined, yet so exposed and indefinite and hidden.
To disapate and scatter into oblivion, into some abyss, and actually feel the time you had was worth something. Not in money, not in someone else's definition, but in your own logic, and desires.
Rambles getting louder, mutters you can hear with the corner of your ears, and the words, you never wanted to know, never wanted to be aware of. Words that felt so hot and sting so badly that it's not worth it to be able to listen, that it's just that much worse to be aware and do nothing, absolutely nothing,
of everyone trying to control you, everyone trying to tell you what you want.
But it's what you want, not there dreams unto you.
Yelling and screaming, attempting to make those who never heard to finally listen.
But does it work? Will it ever work?
How can freedom exist when you aren't being held back by your laws, but by those whose impacts on your life bring about decisions that came out of chained hands and locked windows.
Doors that never opened up, even with the hammers, the saws, the kicks, punches, the vehement methods of escaping without having to run away.
Get a new ID, get a new name, get a new place, anyone could do that, take that way out, but why would you take the easy road out when it's the option that seems most unreachable?

Cause when a heart breaks no it don't break even

It rains on your parade, you think it's intoxicating, until the sun suddenly comes down, and dries up your smile.
Arguments are controversial, hence they are called arguments, but how do you write a paper, if you have no thesis or point or thought behind what you are saying?
What if the insanity in which you have bowed down to, you never gave yourself logic for?

Life is more than just a plan. It's the spontaneous.
It's being alone, walking in the waves as they come tumbling to the shore,
and the sand comforts you, the intimacy of something so abundantly around you,
able to hug you from any and all angles,
& that small feeling you bury deep inside, comes out to play, it comes out to the world,
for you to see, for you to be so painfully aware of, that even laughing won't stop you from concealing it.
Life is when dancing in the water, forgetting about everything else, being alone, isn't the escape anymore.