The tranquility of peaceful sensation: confidence overwhelms my moment of now as I philosophize apathy and consider all aspects of relaxation of mind and body within my warm place of being.
The loveliness of calmness is an artifice brought upon my current like a still water that can never last as the wind always blows away the glassy surface of smoothness with ripples of emotional distress.
Yet I suppress these anxieties and frustrations, caring only for the freedom of enjoyment as I envision the endless distance of imaginated fugue state: I am comforted by the peaceful outlook I have taken upon myself, having replaced the constant dilapidated state of distress which has been my life and past pains.
And yet in my calm state of mind, I find myself reminiscing over what is yet to be or soon to come while a whisper of regret lingers about my mind like a cloud of smoke, cloying and swirling with the slightest breeze or exhalation of breath.
What I need and what I want have come into alignment and the fruition of those desires will be forthcoming upon their own arrival time, hopefully sooner than later.
For my words may shock those who think that they know me, but the horrific nightmares I experienced as a youth have become ingrained into my life and persona, fortifying and encapsulating me.
Such topics which I speak aloud in casual conversation with matter-of-factness are taboo: they utterly astound and shatter the perception of those around me who stand with shocked expression and whisper that my words were too much for their fragile realities to conceive of as normality...
And yet these things are nothing shocking to my own mind and lifestyle as I have accepted them as part of my being and incorporated them into my heart and mind.
However I find that I must censor my own words and edit my mad thoughts before they leap from my tongue into the over-sensitive atmosphere of over-confidence which surrounds those who grew up within an environment which nurtured, protected, and cushioned them from the dramas and horrors of what I find to be part of my childhood.
My American dreams are the nightmares of politicians who prefer to slice their own roads with the cash provided by their special interests, which have nothing to do with the interests of those who are truly special and in dire need of guidance and protection from such greed and carelessness - as that which purports to be for the good of all benefits a mere few.
These dreams of a world in which society as a whole is protected from those who would do any portion of that society harm: protected by a governing body of people who truly listen to the individuals who live in the worst possible conditions; protected by people of influence who will work to their maximum potential to make the least man's life better.
These are the nightmares of the warring factions of oil-mongrels who insist that they receive their own share before anyone else can even see how much is there in the first place.
Ah, but these pipe dreams can bring about the downfall of so many who see themselves as essential and integral to the working functions of this society of American greed. Due to this essential inevitability, little chance exists for the society to become a great covenant of self-sufficiency in a world that sees only the bottom line of profitability; damn the need for stability within our own country!
And even still I find myself calmed and soothed by the fact that there is still a chance for true change in this world, if only those who live in fear would wake up from the nightmare of a greedy corporatocracy and seize back the reins of power, to lash the workhorses and work houses back to full tilt and bring America out of the ditch.
The solutions of tomorrow must be found in the shadows of our yesterdays and utilized to renovate this shabby home: fumigate the evils of society and scrub away the muck from our dilapidated factories; find a way to bring us back from this brink at which we are poised to be punched in the face and plummet to our doom.
All the while we continue to buy foreign-made goods and stare in shock at the cost of buying something made by people within our own borders; thus the cycle of inevitable atrophy continues to eat away at our souls.
The loveliness of calmness is an artifice brought upon my current like a still water that can never last as the wind always blows away the glassy surface of smoothness with ripples of emotional distress.
Yet I suppress these anxieties and frustrations, caring only for the freedom of enjoyment as I envision the endless distance of imaginated fugue state: I am comforted by the peaceful outlook I have taken upon myself, having replaced the constant dilapidated state of distress which has been my life and past pains.
And yet in my calm state of mind, I find myself reminiscing over what is yet to be or soon to come while a whisper of regret lingers about my mind like a cloud of smoke, cloying and swirling with the slightest breeze or exhalation of breath.
What I need and what I want have come into alignment and the fruition of those desires will be forthcoming upon their own arrival time, hopefully sooner than later.
For my words may shock those who think that they know me, but the horrific nightmares I experienced as a youth have become ingrained into my life and persona, fortifying and encapsulating me.
Such topics which I speak aloud in casual conversation with matter-of-factness are taboo: they utterly astound and shatter the perception of those around me who stand with shocked expression and whisper that my words were too much for their fragile realities to conceive of as normality...
And yet these things are nothing shocking to my own mind and lifestyle as I have accepted them as part of my being and incorporated them into my heart and mind.
However I find that I must censor my own words and edit my mad thoughts before they leap from my tongue into the over-sensitive atmosphere of over-confidence which surrounds those who grew up within an environment which nurtured, protected, and cushioned them from the dramas and horrors of what I find to be part of my childhood.
My American dreams are the nightmares of politicians who prefer to slice their own roads with the cash provided by their special interests, which have nothing to do with the interests of those who are truly special and in dire need of guidance and protection from such greed and carelessness - as that which purports to be for the good of all benefits a mere few.
These dreams of a world in which society as a whole is protected from those who would do any portion of that society harm: protected by a governing body of people who truly listen to the individuals who live in the worst possible conditions; protected by people of influence who will work to their maximum potential to make the least man's life better.
These are the nightmares of the warring factions of oil-mongrels who insist that they receive their own share before anyone else can even see how much is there in the first place.
Ah, but these pipe dreams can bring about the downfall of so many who see themselves as essential and integral to the working functions of this society of American greed. Due to this essential inevitability, little chance exists for the society to become a great covenant of self-sufficiency in a world that sees only the bottom line of profitability; damn the need for stability within our own country!
And even still I find myself calmed and soothed by the fact that there is still a chance for true change in this world, if only those who live in fear would wake up from the nightmare of a greedy corporatocracy and seize back the reins of power, to lash the workhorses and work houses back to full tilt and bring America out of the ditch.
The solutions of tomorrow must be found in the shadows of our yesterdays and utilized to renovate this shabby home: fumigate the evils of society and scrub away the muck from our dilapidated factories; find a way to bring us back from this brink at which we are poised to be punched in the face and plummet to our doom.
All the while we continue to buy foreign-made goods and stare in shock at the cost of buying something made by people within our own borders; thus the cycle of inevitable atrophy continues to eat away at our souls.
