I recall writing this whilst in the Science Building at ISU

The Writer,The Poet

Pushing through the heartache that is daily life
Even when pushing through is the last thing
I want do to do, sometimes.

It’s easy enough to lie down and accept the pain;
It’s a little bit harder to put on an air of caring
About anything, sometimes.

Falling in and out of blackness and frustration
Caused by chemicals reacting inside of my head
At imbalanced levels, sometimes.

Up and down and around and down,
Down down down,  and up.
Oh the pattern!
What  pattern, is it there?
I don’t see it
I don’t see it
I don’t see it
Where?

A sort of control is exuded quite precariously
Considering the lack of thought processing stability.
So, rationally an assumption of irrationality can be made,
The idea laid out in front of us like blueprints for…

Disaster?
Hope beyond reason?
Love without motive?
Truth and truth, absolute.