Lives of This Roaring and crashing Tossing and thrashing flipping tables breaking windows frustration of the mind. Literal is not collateral peace is not illiterate fancy but empty words of a source. sense, what is sense. the world is a mass of confusion frustration bitterness hate. What really matters no one really knows. Justifications right's road's evasions irratical persuasions, greed sacrifice. mistaken mistakes, revenge, vice. What is a word, what is a meaning, understanding information gleaning. What is time, it is but a figment of our meanings, a partial to our beings, imagination. There but not really something we've created. a sense, something true, and yet not being. Reasons and doubts whispers and shouts is life a meaning or a mere coincidence? Tis so, and so is, the floatation of your devices, our own lives our conscience the meaning is our demises. wandering lost lonely afraid, searching for meaning, coming up frayed. Perhaps we most fear what we all seek for, meaning but without, our lives of this. ~K.k.P~ This poem is about: MeOur world Comments Login or register to post a comment.