gentle vanity

 Gentle touch. Vulnerable thoughts. Caring words. Empathetic emotion. 

Moving forward in time, I have no goal to define. I write from my soul, with the hope to refine. Yin and Yang, a lost art of mine. Lost in time or concealed by my mind. Feel one way, it is the only way. I see no other way. I sit and look at the bay developing peace in nature, I let the moment sway. Then in memories I see picture fragments, my thoughts in disorganized cabinets. Looking for the pathway to mental nourishment. In order to find it I live in the contrast. Mental starvation to reach my destined location. When I speak, I feel naked. I feel abrasive, unable to tango with a stranger's language. I hope to look in their mind to find mine. I hope to look in their brain to feel sane. My tongue is tied, the ideas tangled, so hard to find or define. I'm only allowed certain ideas to shine. The world is so beautiful, destroyed by these lackluster thoughts of mine. Who am I to destroy what's not mine? It's disgraceful, I feel a chain pull my brain in the direction of shame. Then I feel great. Then I feel pain, in vain. 


Vain thoughts. Narcissistic tendencies. Depressing habits. Fear and shame.