Weirdness at the “Inn”

When your drunk to the point you can stand on your own two, MAYBE you should avoid jumping into a hotel pool at 2 in the morning with two very sober guys…you might end up banging on the the window hoping someone let’s you in (because you forgot your key) and crying…

(thinking)

Thinking…

I don’t really want my blog to be filled with poetry (or at least words posing as poems), but that seems to be easier than coming up with a better Idea. Not much for talking about my day or my feelings, but what else is there to put on here? current events? I think not. Anyway I’ll most likely keep putting up p(n)oetry, and blogs about not having anything to blog about. Maybe even something worth putting up too. I’ve come to like this blogging thing (even though I joined like…3 days ago), I enjoy checking up on my post and KNOWING that no one has looked at them and probably won’t (I’m writing to myself and enjoying the feedback). I want to start making blogs about things I like and highlighting certain people,things,or other. yeah that’d be :::DOPE::: lol

PEACE

St(L)uck?

My mind’s not stable, I don’t think it’s ever been

It travels through many futures COMPARING

to see which one it’ll fit in

But more often it travels to the past

 dwelling in it’s failures and thinking of what it could have had

Swimming through regrets BARELY

avoiding drowning in secrets that it’ll never forget

I try to tell my mind “let the past be and focus on what is”

But like a rehabed druggie it always goes back

It’s reluctance to move on frustrates me more than you know

But at least my minds sane enough not to show

It’s weakness WHICH is what’s already happened

I guess eventually it’ll stop thinking about back when

My body moves on, but my mind stays stuck

I wish I could KICK start my mind in the right direction

Because I’m ready to move on and continue my now

But my minds lost in the past and doesn’t want to be found.

The (WORD) Doodler

I wrote this a few weeks ago on a Saturday evening/Sunday morning while sitting in my room with the lights off

Enjoy

I’ve been abducted by my thoughts

And they’re making me write this poem

Although, I don’t consider myself a poet

Just an insomniac with a pen

But I think I’ve been abandoned by my kidnapper

Because this poem is starting to look like someones misinformed haiku

Or maybe I’m just evading my pen

But wait…I’m already writing again

But words from a pen mean nothing if you don’t have anything to say

Is that true? Because if not I could just tell you about my day

Which can be summed up in two “same ol’, how ’bout you?”

Well I guess this poem is over

All bad things must come to an end

Maybe later on I’ll try another

Maybe even with something to say

My pen is done for now.

(ranDom)