Johnathon B

March 6 1987 -
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A Drunks Sober Mind

People are noisy.
Sitting in the dark I can hear the highway from miles away.
The trucks screaming over the metal bridge that's there for the construction.
The cars on their ways to work.
Honking horns sometimes bullet the air.
I wonder if people ever realize how noisy they are?
I bet there's a guy in Brooklyn that's never truly heard quiet in his life.
Maybe that's why people make movies about nature and what it's like to be outside on adventures.
Or just truly outside, in nature.
Sometimes I think I've never truly heard quiet.
But I've been to the quiet.
I've lived a life of chopping blocked memories.
A montage of my own life plays in my head sometimes.
I miss being young.
And I miss people.
However noisy they ever were.
I try to stay positive nowadays.
Try to look on the brighter side of things.
Cynical as ever though its tough not to see the bad and negative.
I feel like so many things are just fake.
Just people going through the motions.
I find most conversations boring and tiresome.
Mostly I talk to myself.
Depression sounds like; There is no future, only tomorrow.
Slices of Doom.
I wonder if people ever really feel anymore.
Is that why people are so emotional nowadays?
Everything is explosive.
Hot to the touch.
Sipping the coffee and checking their unimportant notifications.
Oh look, someone liked this,
Oh look, more orders for product,
Oh look, another event to go to and more make believe,
Oh look, look, look out, crash.
She will be dearly missed.
Flowers, what an odd way to get them.
The dead receive more flowers than the living, because regret is stronger than gratitude.
I wonder how many flowers I'll get.
I squander these days.
Why don't people ever get it?
The terror that confronts all of us eventually.
People just, are okay with it...
It worries me greatly.
It makes me mad that time exists, and scared.
And I sit in this room and squander the days more instead of using them.
I know this and still its squandered.
Cut, copy, paste.
Another day.
Another way to move through it.
Plums of smoke, dust, white, grey, ash, soot, powder.
There's a place above the clouds where you can sit down and look out forever.
I wish to visit one day.
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