Aimless in this whirlpool of distractions, but what do they distract from? Stuck in the wind of wondering Achieving only a fraction of my potential, a refraction Floundering in the muddy puddles of pondering, not great at anything? So 'follow your gut' they say, and towards that I am swayed, except, towards what is my gut even casting it's ray? Although I'm sure I did play, I'm not sure I was able accept an obsession when my childhood was in session What is the lesson? Do I need to seek out some kind of regression? To go back to a day where I indeed did play? Or seek out what people from my childhood may say? Really my question is always will I be okay? No. Will I be great? I refuse to resign myself to some mediocre fate, but even as I write this, the night gets ever so late. At this rate of thoughts there is no possible way I go hit the hay. So instead I must adapt my gait, as a goat does climbing a mountain. I daydream of soaring, yet I can't see on what. It's as though I am God looking down, saying 'put it all around him' I am surrounded and trapped by 'success', I know the way out is my gut I am lashed by the flames inside me. These fantasies crash with feelings in jarring flashes. The reason I believe is solely in evidence I have given myself. In my mad dashes towards the top shelf, away from the 'normalcy' I hate Small windows into a world where I am unmatched. Where onto me others latch as I shoulder the weight. I believe somehow someway THAT is my fate. Actions will take me towards a world I want. Towards wealth I will not flaunt, and evil I will taunt. Towards moments I will haunt the darkness, and many a jaunt. At the least I will write my story in my own font, and have a life not gaunt.
From my heart and soul,
James Floyd
