Boulevard Hate

" 'Memory is part of the present. It builds us up inside; it knits our bones to our muscles and keeps our heart pumping.It is memory that reminds our bodies to work, and memory that reminds our spirits to work, too: it keeps us who we are.It is the influence that keeps us from frying off into separate pieces...' " ~Candle Son of a Witch

Life goes on! This past week has been full of homework, key club, painting, and connection. It has also redefined the known.

Where are you?
Are you inside a forest in the mist,
or in a office on Avenue B?
Why do all these images don't perfectly represent,
what I need to see?

Should I save myself?
What good will that do
if when I save myself there is nowhere else to go.
I still answer the questions
that I really do not know.

Should life be so desperate.
No one can usurp my self;
and still I feel I must defend with all I have,
which isn't anything but a glass of insecurity.
What is there really to save?

Insignificance and ignorance must be bliss
because being on the outside is
rewarding with loneliness.
I don't know what my true intentions are;
can you guess?

On my fifth stanza
and yet I feel no less or more.
When I find you I will emancipate.
When I find you...
First path to follow: Boulevard Hate.