no name

in this small box in the large world, im in too deep it scares me, I could lose 'stuff; and it not bother my soul because i am loved but im not sure that i love this life yet. to touch my own face feels like a elusion , i am watching me, what and who are you?

what is needed is a hill, and i will feel peace in myself one day to come after which i see what i have been seeking; but thinking the mind over drive can make the appreciation of life itself disappear.

to find such balance is the journeys soul reason to stay alive.

that it was life is.

chasing leaves

Paths and Bridges, relax in parks and stand in front of fridges, never fear, tis life and take it like water from a ducks back. Back off from the hustle and bustle your own moves on the dance floor, rhythm in steps but freedom in the beat, of the drums from another place,              far from the street

truth

Heavy legs but carrying me strong , beating sun but peek-a boo clouding, strength in weakness and santas beard floating for wishes, not all dreams should be true, but in ourself we do.

peter fights pan

sure as i am breathing sure as i am mad. connection to shadow and light, sub conscience  is mad. peter fighting the pan and into the fire of life. looking back for a second, cut the innocence with a knife. taken back, everyday, to savor the making. i am not mistaking this life. its mine and in my shadow lies something divine.

two faces mind like a bird free

to be two in one deal flying and grounded. heart beating and it sounds like feathers. my skull her skull. the skull thats left of her, that is all. we have a journey flight or fight. gallop on hard ground toward something. for something. life is fucking beautiful and beautifully fucked up. pick one. pick her and fly forward for one day we will all be but a skull. 

so yeah tribal head

to dear fence

once upon one life, just that one. and no more.

not important enough for many. 

nothing more valuable to those who have had to make the spoon they suckle on.

life at its best isn't fair, and said in a worldly way; also said by scar, we take what we have for granted and always see greener on the hill to the left.

unfair or bitter sweet? from the beating feet from the heart of the cities to the hearts beating in the land not many live ,we are all living.Bodies breathing living but are we all living with the beats of the heart we have grown? 

some know not how to listen, only to rush past life itself, daydreamers with thoughts to fill the sea they float on and the stark fear of surviving itself. 

i find to be stuck. the kind of stuck close to the feeling of a carousel of moving mirrors, the slight nausea of a hurried world and the confusion of the real self standing before you. 

craving freedom of the developed today in a  sense of justice, yet freedom of discovery.

we can only do so much. why? to my thoughts are my actions a hinder, let the mind free, truly. can it? To sit on the fence is both a feeling of uncertainty and literally a sense of security,but the realization that the mans sweat that made the fence made the machines to bring it down and the outcome that we must choose a path.

think and do, think?, do?, survive?