I'll Finish This Idea At Another Time

what are you going to do when the sky falls, your insides come out, and the lies you've been telling reveal themselves.

the real pain for feels sake.

i sit in the shallowest valley and try and kick a few chickens out the coop on up to you. hell, they'll survive, and there's nothing else to do. i'm wired, to tell you have to respond to a series of questions i was coached to ask you. the coach, a soul who lives inside me and prepares my most daring and brilliant ideas. if alone to my own devices the only ideas i'd have would be dainty and laced with ridicule from their creator.

yes of course these ideas still exist, they live deep in the pit of my stomach, where i sometimes wonder if, coachless, i'd have an easier time making out some sort of form of happiness. it is this very thought that makes me nostalgic of a decade ago when everything seemed hard, but was in fact so simple i did it all with eyes closed and without a word said. today this is only half of my problem. a staple of my aging process, the one that screeched to a halt merely weeks after it had begun. at times i'm conflicted with a short list of grievances that i can't come to terms with. i have taken them head on, battled them with my entire arsenal, tried passing them off to another.

and even though at most times i'm aware that their strength is only as much as i let on, they still fade in and out. whether they are looking for a fight, or just lurking about the hurt they let onset is unmatched in my lifetime.