Interlock Shock


My mind hasn’t gone down that road in quite a long time.

At first there was curiosity,

But then there was honest to God fear.

I’m on my own path as it is,

And it’s definitely the one I want to be on.
But there are times I recall the old road;

There is no interlock between these two nodes.

Sometimes I worry about its maintenance and care,

But something tells me these are thoughts I can’t share.




They’re different, you see?

Complete opposites to me.

I want something from both.

It’d go against my oath,

And maybe I went into this from the wrong angle.

Maybe the first is too far into a mangle.

So that leaves the second of the two.

Do I leave the first, for something entirely new?

Or do I keep to the system.

Play with the present.

Move on when the curtains go down.

There won’t be any applause at the end of that road.

Maybe it’s time to unload.

Attractive Options


I’m on the wrong side of the road,
But I like the perspective from here.
Thoughts easily flowed,
And I think I like what I hear.

There’s another attractive option from my right,
And it might be something I’d go for.
I’d like to say that it’s upright,
But I know it’s against what I swore.

Yellow Marks


Death surrounds this long narrow road.
Flashes of yellow are what I recall.
Life came,
And life left.

Hope came crashing against this glass,
As I watched joy come and pass.
Yellow turned clear,
And I know there is so much to fear.

That could have been me.
That could have been you.
So yes, death scares me,
It claims what is due.

Journal #41 – Mistakes


Topic: Are you making the same mistakes over and over again?

I’ve got myself into a new situation, that I have yet to fully wrap my head around. It’s entirely different from anything I’ve been in before, and yet I can’t help but think that I’ve walked down this road before. Not in the literal sense of course, but in some other manner. I can’t completely explain it because I don’t fully understand it. Maybe you have some insight on this that would be helpful. Because I am at a loss of words.

The word mistake has such a sad weight to it. A mistake is something that you did wrong or through misguided eyes. It’s a mistake to say that I would call my past actions a mistake, yet that is what I was taught to call them. Maybe that in itself is a mistake of social ideals, or maybe it’s a mistake simply due to English grammar.

I won’t say that I made a mistake, because I feel no guilt. I likewise won’t say I made a mistake because I looked on at where my road would take me with my eyes wide open.

The only mistake I keep making over and over again is my mistake in calling my train of thought, and thereafter actions, a mistake. I’m too rational to say that it was the best outcome, but I’m too sensible to say that I didn’t line my road with my own brick stones.