Yet another week of going out in public and hoping, praying almost for some kind of acceptance with some form of desperation and in all the wrong places. Trying to find acceptance in a building full of dysfunctional people is never a good thing and yet there I was again feeling alone and hoping for acceptance at every turn. Never going to happen.
Instead, I feel like an outsider hoping for someone who can understand me is willing to translate to those who have no freaking clue what is come out of me. My words seem a garbled mess in a world full of clear cut communications.
My manic mind flowing in all directions begging me to either shut it off or go along hoping for the best. The best never seems to come along but the words come out in spits and sputs.
Foul stench of poetry and short stories wreaking havoc on my own mind as they drag the truth out of me that no one seems to hear or comprehend except of course for a finite chosen few. The barren soul whisking away the bitter ends of my candle burning at both ends with no end in sight.
Imagine being a nearly 50 year old male and still emotionally feeling like I am a 20 something. My face plays along not looking my age but nearly 20 years younger and frustrating me even more. No matter how old I get I still am left wishing for peace that at this point appears to be not coming anytime soon to my manic mind.
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