'Slam'

I'm on to something.

I can feel it inside...

Burning. 

It's all around me... 

And it's close.

I'm being filled with knowledge...

With knowledge, comes awareness.

With awareness, comes understanding.

With understanding, comes ________.

*smiles*

Until I can place my finger on the collective compilation of crooked creativity,

I needed to avert the blockade.

This is release.

Slam.

'A Perspective Worth Less Than' 

by Evelynn Kingsley

I feel sick...  

Gut wrenched.  

Twisted.  

Sick of the, red and green eyed monsters staring down long accusing fingers...  

Be they boney or fleshy  

They prod and poke

Jab and stab  

The being that I am... 

And I have always pandered to the contorted path of which I was told to walk...

Everyone telling me who to be, and how to be it  

And when I'm trying so hard to be something I'm not, 

NOT trying to be something that I am, 

The tedious ways of a cookie cut out trying to run a marathon amongst shadows, is simply the rat race of everyone else that claims to be better then you... 

Which only cause me to crumble under the heat of the moment.  

I realize my shell is the cell in which I've aged a soul so fragile in this harborus cage,  

And like that of a fine wine  

I'm still waiting to spill upon the worth of egyptian cotton, 

Where I'd leave my mark.

Didn't you know?

I've met myself... 

But as for now,

 I'm stuck in the rut in which I have dug 

In order to pave a way for the preconcieved notions of a life 

And how it's supposed to be lived in someone else's minds eye...  

But still I try 

I try... 

With sprawled digits and curled tips,

 Digging deeper and deeper, never finding the treasure,

Worth less than appraised.