the casual whispers
shrouded behind
aimless mutterings
as the television flickers
at 3 in the morning.

the only time of the day
you're truly you is when
it's yourself
you're answering to.

I try to drown out
those voices
by packing up the dvr
with crap I could write
as the characters speak.

the predictability of language
lacking its shows
while emotions lead
to unforeseen consequences.

it's a boring go
that's for sure.

I know I should be doing
more than I already don't
but I'm unsure of the origin.

for me just the initiation
is the supreme of victories.

I'm more afraid of the success
than I am of the failure.

the casual whispers
grow more formal
with cranked volume
as I get older.

time is a pressure
without a physical substance
and yet somehow
it's on my every thought.

procrastination is an art form
though should only be saved
for things you don't need
or chores better left for never.

I need to get on my feet and run.

towards what I'm unsure
and that should be part
of the overall excitement.

these words graced my mind
and then somehow hopped
onto this page.

looking in the mirror
I can see any version
of myself I care to.

it's the future that is cloudy
and it's my guts
that are in question.

and you find yourself asking:
“why did he only capitalize 'I'
in this whole poem?”

for the same reason
only god can capitalize
his own name

and for that same reason
I will always understand
that I do exist
as the casual whispers
make sure to tell me so.

07/12/2012

Posted on 07/12/2012
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