late one night, alone and under the influence of silence and lonliness among other things. this is the loss of awareness, chronicled. before you read it, please do note that this does not make sense in many parts as it was originally a recording of me tal


Second Grade Philosopher

i just cant figure it out.
my ached mind
and pained muscles
are working and working and working
and just
working.

my eyes wander across the blank
white wall in my room for absolutely no
reason at all. maybe im looking for
bugs like my cat sometimes does, or maybe im enlightening
my mind on a subconscious level unbeknownst to me.
perhaps im just overworking my mathematical
mind with trite and boring ideas. sometimes
i
just
dont
know.
BUT
that never helps and whenever i think that i can feel my
awareness just leak out of my ears, down my neck, and onto my
shoulders. its wet and damp like walking through
the rain in the middle of the night, but before i know it im
suddenly transported to a time in my youth. things change when your
awareness leaves you.
leaves you
all
by
yourself.
before you know it youre rambling and rambling on and
on. am i rambling? i cant tell now, but dont you dare laugh, im disabled.
i dont have my awareness with me, and i take it EVERYWHERE with me.
i guess
im just
not
the
same
without
it.

now im lost inside my own head. at first it was just a tour
of the place, but now im confused. it appears someone has thrown
a wrench in my cogwheels up here, thats no good.
im panicked.
im scared.
im curious.
im still in this head and
im tired,
tired of staring out these two glassy round windows
called eyes, all they're doing is focusing on a wall.
boring.
im taking the elevator down, down to the soul.
my soul is supposedly going
to bring me my youth when im old,
but i have a feeling that fountain of youth
is in defiance of these weary bones.
well it looks like its already in defiance
because that elevator is currently out of order,
i guess i wont venture down.

awareness,
i want my awareness, i want it
back.
without it i think about things too much,
like a second grade philosopher.
without it i dont really think enough,
like a second grader period, just ready to eat some
crayons, or draw on some furniture with
that colored wax.

wait
wait
wait.
i dont want my awareness back,
i just want some crayons so i
can draw out and formulate
my childish second grade
philosophies on this
blank white
wall.




Poetry by Latiep Nolingus
Read 611 times
Written on 2006-01-20 at 10:05

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