The mistakes we make in life can make us crumble,
two bricks withering down can make the entire building tumble.

No matter how many times you create beauty the pessimist persists,
the mistakes always on the mind never out of the peripheral sights.

The realist looks at both sides and makes symphonies of insights.

Rise above your two mistakes and focus your lens on the beauty around.

This will lead to a building and mind on the most solid ground.

I've been on the low.

I've been taking my time,
I feel like I'm out of my mind,
It feels like my life could never be mine.

I don't wanna be alive
and let me tell you why.

All the **** speaking happening and presently occurring, as those same culprits pop up in my head as if I'm memorizing.

I've been praying for somebody to save me, but no one's heroic.
My life doesn't even matter, I know it, I know it...or at least I tell my myself that.

I'm hurting deep down but why can’t I show it?
I never had a place to call my own.
I never had a home, ain't nobody callin' my phone.

Where have you been? Where you at? What's on your mind?
They say every life precious but nobody cares about mine.

I've been on the low.
I've been taking my time.
I feel like I'm out of my mind.
It feels like my life ain't mine.
Who can relate?

-- Alex Wilson, 2017

CARPE DIEM!
Like a hockey team,
accomplishing the American dream.

CARPE COLLOQUIUM!
Like Napoleon,
giving a speech to defeat the Mongolian.

CARPE VINUM!
Like a forgotten man's byname,
stumbling aimlessly when it's always been within his brain.

CARPE NOCTEM!
Like a relentless cricket's chirp,
always ready to exhibit pounding energy without limit.

CARPE DIEM!
Seize the day, today,
for yesterday cannot be replayed.

My mind can't comprehend the emotions inside,
a war fought each night I lose by a landslide.

The sheets of comfort have become an anxiety-ridden hell,
my mind unbearably racing like Van Gogh preparing a pastel.

Remedies have been given but I lay restless,
indescribable assurance it's helpless,
as I become anxious and continuously stress this.

Not the battles but the war I must calmly defeat,
as I finally become even on my sleep's balances.

Caught in-between a hard problem and a tragedy,
one which all thoughts conceive a calumny.

False religious declarations brought hope, a preconceived act, with all past failures examined and attacked, like a quasi-contract.

How can infinite knowledge and power create such hate, terror, and pain, similar to a suicide pact?

How does one find their own avenue? Without being stuck in the heart with a corkscrew?

Is personal discovery extinct? Do we forget the past, subconsciously ensure the failures of our future, and presently live with no imprint?

Is individuality impossible?

The characteristics are defined and distinct, but each soul's technique is quietly fluttering away from this lost mystique.

Discover the reality of you, rise up, revolt, and fight the deceitful greed and promised happiness brewed in realities poisonous stew, as it's faithful traits of trust, love, and care that create our optimistic views.

To be happy; an outdated phrase soon to be extinct.

When the downfall of morality can unfold in a blink, as we subconsciously conjure a future drearily bleak.