Wake. Eat. Work when it's warranted. Eat. Sit. Think. Sit. Write. Eat. Sleep.
Movement is the center of everything. Without movement there is no life. I have been as still and quiet as a lion stalking it's prey. It's said that when one stops is when all systems begin shutting down until failure.
I have stopped. I have ceased to move as a did before. My body is shutting down.
My days have become motionless monotonous cycles. I'm not moving and I'm barely living. Life is a gift that lately I have refused to except. All that surrounds me is living yet I am not.
This has to change. Something's got to give.
I'm fully aware of what needs to be done but Procrastination has his fingers interlocked with Motivation in a game of Red Rover that I can not break. I can't push through to separation.
Energy seems to evade me like a lover who's moved on and the mirrors taunt me of this mental divorce.
I'm screaming for someone to help me but these sounds bounce off the walls reverberating in my head. They're so loud, these screams, they leave a ringing in my ears like the aftermath of bomb.
Such a painful noise. A self created monstrous symphony.
Giving up is easy and trying is hard yet both are a challenge.
My only companions have been my writings and the fingers that type them. My communication is in the vast unknown and the ones to which I speak are unknowing.
Do I let this personal parade continue on or do I break away from my rank in line?
Left. Right. Left. Right. One, Two, Three.
Movement is the center of everything. Without movement there is no life. I have been as still and quiet as a lion stalking it's prey. It's said that when one stops is when all systems begin shutting down until failure.
I have stopped. I have ceased to move as a did before. My body is shutting down.
My days have become motionless monotonous cycles. I'm not moving and I'm barely living. Life is a gift that lately I have refused to except. All that surrounds me is living yet I am not.
This has to change. Something's got to give.
I'm fully aware of what needs to be done but Procrastination has his fingers interlocked with Motivation in a game of Red Rover that I can not break. I can't push through to separation.
Energy seems to evade me like a lover who's moved on and the mirrors taunt me of this mental divorce.
I'm screaming for someone to help me but these sounds bounce off the walls reverberating in my head. They're so loud, these screams, they leave a ringing in my ears like the aftermath of bomb.
Such a painful noise. A self created monstrous symphony.
Giving up is easy and trying is hard yet both are a challenge.
My only companions have been my writings and the fingers that type them. My communication is in the vast unknown and the ones to which I speak are unknowing.
Do I let this personal parade continue on or do I break away from my rank in line?
Left. Right. Left. Right. One, Two, Three.
