jlminks

Nameless and faceless Youth, on the streets, found wanting- "I", pickpocket, thief.

The tides wash over You, sun-kissed body, to an Ocean deep, endless.

I won't wait until I am old and grey, Withering away without a handle on this earth. I will have the passion to Want and feel, To touch another person and have them touch me. Of the simplest things in life- The joys I shied away from, I will regret you, all I didn't do. I never did tell you the ugly, nasty truths about myself. I guess we were just strangers Keeping pace with one another, Winding along the same path, sharing nothing at all. And now All I am able to do is whisper nothings To a silent rock on a neglected grave. Your plot of land has no flowers. It is unkept. The grass is growing wild and the weeds are ram

I can't bring myself to do the things I know I ought to do all things that are right and good all things necessary all I can do is do what I want all things dealing in nothing oh I am hopeless and aimless I am not in need or want of a fellow friends are long long gone I can be on my own a recluse lacking motivation and inclination I don't want to study or vote or shop don't want to do any duty worry about obliging and filling or acing or doing not this day today someday maybe quite possibly not today when I can be on my own in a room of my own I am vibrant and full of youth I have time and time does not need me not ri

Impress upon me your wily ways Twenty-something youth of           Rebellion. Little boy of a lost generation. You abandoned your home to find the world, Find yourself an education. Freedom from guilt Carefully wrapped up to seem so sweet, So sweet it makes me ill. To live without qualms, You've learned to play puppeteer. All the world's a stage, Your stage, Or so I've heard. Your quick spending is gonna- Your wild-eyed sights are gonna land You in the hole. It's bankruptcy, honey. Of the Moral sort.

Where are you, God of mine? I can't see you, hear you. Am I supposed to? How do I find you? What if I need you? I can't know you're real if I can't feel you All around me, Can I? To me you are no more real than Childhood fables. But your memory lives in strangers Like me, unlike me. That has to count for something, Doesn't it? Please, God, I don't want to wonder. Please, God, I'm anxious. Please, God, what can I do?