The fragmentation of possibility

My mind is piling up,
With fragments of ideas,
Thousands of shards are shattering,
My every train of thought,
While this train plows on,
Without me.
Do I derail yet another track towards progress?
Knowing full well that they lead,
Either where I know I do not want to go,
Or where I do not know where it will go.
And so, I do not go,
I stay, running, limping, dragging my feet,
Nowhere in particular.
Because these piles of ideas,

Are insurmountable.

I need another way to say what I need to do today,
Because while my mouth tires quickly,
My mind does not want to stay,
Quiet,
But my brain does have to pay,
The price,
Of not holding it’s end of the bargain,
And the cacophony of silence that is this payment,
Flows in through the ears of the well-meaning listener,
The exchange rate of translation eating up my social savings,
Until I have spent every last bit of energy trying to get things out,
But it is never enough

The silent rage that comes and goes without my full attention,
The quite studder that derails my profound proclamations,
The words gone before they are fully formed,
And so, another idea is not an ideation,
– realization,
– catalyzation,
– contamination,
Loss,
Of,
Control,
The parts are not a whole,
And this burns into my soul,
While my mind is off gallivanting around my scull without me,
Too large to fit out between my clenched teeth,
But too small to not get trampled by my mental rampage,
A shiny new train car still going nowhere, a rehashing of the unobtainable,
Because it is uncontainable,
While that which is, goes untested, because it is too mundane,
But needs to sustain,
The thoughts in my brain,
For long enough to finally gain,
What I need in my life, without going insane.

These many ideas are all smoke and no fire,
And they continue piling up in a mess that’s growing higher,
I need to apply more heat to the half-burnt embers,
Go beyond the elastic to the plastic,
The many conflictions melding into a larger plan,
One grand overriding desire to be more than I am,
So that we, us, our are not the exact same synonyms as I, me, my,
So the uniquely irregular hole in my sole soul can be filled,
With the unknown you,
That has an equally unshakable need, desire, want for similar differences,
Pyrolyzing when the intake is full,
Releasing the pent-up lack of energy, repurposing, reinvigorating, recatalyzing, regaining control, together,
Is how I can untether,
From this cyclical, pointless track, and go somewhere,
Out to the future that is not this present purgatory of platitude and patience,
But is a sustainable sustenance that has substance and is starting soon,
Waiting around the next bend in my mind,
Will you be there, saying “all on board”?

-Aaron E-J

Lost in the haze of coffee gone cold…

Lost in the haze of coffee gone cold…
Why can you not be here?
Near to where the apex of summation of cognition and bliss,
Where the setting sun meets with me and the music flows free from the hands of someone else,
…for someone else,
With every intention, but none towards me,
While the pent up burning of a fossil so cruel,
Its pressure bound to hieratical rule,
And the rungs of the ladder have long gone away,
Replaced with nothing but ambiguity and rhetoric,
While every act of good intention goes unheard,
Lost in the haze of coffee gone cold,
When the adrenaline starts to wane,
But the oxytocin of men giving birth to ill thought out apotheosis,
Hits head on with reality.
Then the beating drum goes quiet,
And you begin your next day, your next year, your next life,
Right where you left off,
No better, no worse, no fucking different than any other day.
That's why.
The question is as obvious as the answer to yesterday's logic,
But yesterday's logic is far too simplistic as the future I seek,
Where we meet will be determined by when we meet,
Who we meet though, is what is boring a hole in my soul.
Even though I have the power to set the parameters,
It is that I have set the bars,
Too high to reach,
But too strong to break…
That is why…
That is why.
–Aaron E-J