Just A Thought

So, I wrote this yesterday, and apparently I'm not the only one who feels this way, so here's kinda my outlook on life I suppose.

   Sometimes, when I read too much poetry, I can feel the unreality of the world starting to seep through the cracks in the walls and I can't get upset about anything, because everything's relative to the window of reality you allow into your apartment. You're going to move out sooner or later, and when you do, you may not have to deal with all the things that happened when you let too much reality in.

The Payoff of Living Suits the Cost of Death

Back laced, demographically pleasing violence
   Washes all thought to the gutter,
   Where it sits, pockmarked and painless,
   While I attempt to process the news that
   I'm stuck on the day the apocalypse took all feeling
   From my fingertips and left a gray stripe on my forearm
   Which burns whenever touched,
   Reminding me of the graceless butterflies who hijack my feet
   Thinking to fly, but run instead
   Over shattered bullet shells, tripping at every possible moment,
   Eroding the skin from my feet, setting all the insects free
   To hurt me again.
Twittering birds often shove the talent I had hoped for
   Between the sticks of their nest,
   Intertwining my dreams and beliefs with mud
   For the good of their children.
   Even if it leaves me devoid of flame and water.

I speak too much when no one is     

listening.    

Return To Sender

Could my memories, those frail particles
   Caught by some partial understanding of how fleeting
   Smiles and softened eyes actually are,
   Stop living as though they understand the present
   Through their outdated look on life?