Patchwork Heart

What started off as whole you give away in pieces

In the hope for some of theirs in return

Each time, nothing was your reward

You sought to patch the holes

With anything, everything that made it feel that little bit better

Now behold the patchwork heart

No longer whole, yet not entirely ruined

Small pieces remain

With so little left, give them out wisely

And always keep one piece for yourself

Keep it at the centre of the patchwork tapestry

Just to remember that once upon a time

You did have a heart, pure & whole

One upon a time.

Lost, Loathing & The Self

When did we become so lost?

In our ever advancing intellect and technological achievements, which are truly astounding, we’ve lost something. Do you know what I mean, can you feel that little piece of something that was there is now not, yet it was so slowly dissipated there is now no inkling to what it was.

Perhaps it’s just me, maybe this is why every time I see the posts people share regarding such arbitrary and idealistic nonsense it makes ┬áme cringe.

What is the point in sharing such bollocks?

Apart from gathering some attention on social media and looking like a bit of a tit, what point is there?

It is these eyes that are seeing things through a haze or is this just how things are now?

School shooting, better update my profile and tell people I’m sharing my prayers for them, yet there will be nothing actually done from me to help solve the issue, however so long as people know I care that I’m a good person.

Such heroic nonsense.

In a life that is largely sorrow, pain and suffering, we’re truly blessed if we can have at least a handful of people to call friends or family, yet it is those very people that we treat the worst because we can get away with it, what’s up with that?

Dear god…

Such self loathing. It spreads like a cancer to everything I see. It’s maddening because as much as a different truth is sought, it can’t be found.

Ugh, the jaded man of stories past. Once so hopeful, so ignorant. Blinded by hubris, now incurring the punishment of the self, it’s such bullshit, such twisted self obsessed bullshit and yet the feelings just won’t go away.

For someone who for all intents and purposes has most things ‘sorted out’ from the aspect of living, why does this feeling refuse to subside.

So many closed doors still remain untouched.

I guess those are as good a place to start as any.