Winter came overnight.

Frost settling where my mind could not reach.

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i’d rather hear the roar of machines

than the inner beasts of man

i’d rather smell the burn of tires

than the quiet fire of souls

i seek an emotion that must be pure

not conflicted and cracked to splinters

yet i forego notions of completion

to become one with life

is neither one or the other

darkness slips into light

and i do not accept my mind

numbed to the facts of life

but indulge in fantasies beyond my measure

so terrible and alone

and when the last breath escapes

i see my body of work

and silently weep for the pain

You hide them, hide them well, don’t you? Every interaction, every experience, every encounter where you felt left outside. Confused. Misunderstood. Ignored. So small and brief in stature. Soft and hard. But they are there, aren’t they? Refusing to leave. Made you. Your memory. And you are never going to disclose them to anyone, are you? Not in their truest form; only deviations, of distant observations, cooled by years of solace and solitude. Still, they are there. And not even your closest ones will ever know. Know of their details. Only that there might be more than what meets the eye. (Isn’t there always?). How strange that every single person walking on this earth carries around so many little, untold moments. Stories. Never to be told. Taken with them to the grave.

Have I grown out of certain feelings of certain ages—and into new ones? Feeling only the old ones as ghosts hiding in the attic, rustling along the walls of my memory? Like a pull from the past, asking me: ‘Will you ever reach us again?’

To have become a different kind of sentimental. And a different kind of cynic. Reacting differently to things I once scorned. Or cherished.

Feelings follow ages, I suppose. I both miss the old ones and feel relief that they are no more. So strange to become an adult; to become this amalgamation of different times and sensations belonging to the same person.

I wonder which of those feelings I should hold on to and which ones I should let go or bar out entirely? To not lose a sense of myself. But is myself not all of them? Or is it dangerous to keep them all locked in?