I am so near,
but ever so far
My brain feels deformed
made out of half connected neurons
not capable of clear thought,
Half-animal but without the instinct
for survival.
When I was younger,
I liked to stare at clouds
but now it pains me to.
They represent pure carefree days,
sitting right there before my eyes
but unattainable,
untouchable,
slowly floating away
Im growing old.
my hariline will receed,
but not as quickly as my soul
into a newfound abyss.
I dont care for much anymore,
and I guess it shows
as people who once listened
move on with their lives.
Like this poem, my mind is unordered
A misprint of a telephone book
in unalphabetical order.
not that anybody uses them anymore
Just like me.
I look at the big picture too closely-
The universe under a microscope,
warps my goals.
Maybe one day I’ll be free.