Remus-Rigamour

Follow the trends Changed Rearranged You’re a fool Without a master A chameleon Say one thing Mean another Change your outlook At the top of a hat Retract Everything you just said All for popularity A Lamb among the flock

Day in Day out The same routine Repeated Recycled Over again Regurgitated With the rising sun Extinguished by the moon Continue the path An endless scream We will never Be at peace

Rambunctious Untrained Play on the mind Only one thought Whatever moves Will become mine ADHD onslaught Branded by its curse… Oh look another prize

A glimmer Tears through the black Azul floods into the sky A beacon Beckoning For all to rise Start a new Be reborn

Engulfed in flames They watch I burn They gawk I squirm Trapped Chained Unable to persist Unknowing Unsure Can’t escape This futility

Inspiration Comes and goes A stream of excitement Wave of new ideas The driving force Of man Creator of Knowledge Art Creation Everything we know Is driven By this vibration

A failed design Searches to find Its own peace of mind A place of rest Retreat Safety from Insanity A home Called Death

Searching Squandering The items To be hold A prize of man A true treasure A treat Where is it? Continue on It can be found Driven to the brink Wondering Wavering Unyielding to stop I will find you I will not accept defeat

The passage of time Devours all The true destroyer Its presence has no bonds It will continue Regardless of any intentions Everything burns Crumbles Corrodes Decays The unstoppable force Brings it hence Nail in coffin Death is ultimate

Driven we continue on We seek greatness To be known A lifetime spent Just for the title To be remembered Written in a book Some may remember Most probably won’t

I wandered a concrete jungle without a guide to help me navigate the wild raw nature of this towering giant built of concrete and steel beams with flesh and bone supporting it all. It was hard to really dedicate myself to anything when I really couldn't find the virtue in living. Pacing back and forth between opposite ends of the street in hopes that I could make sense of roads and signs and gas guzzling vehicles and pedestrians and bike riders and motorcyclists and women pushing their children in strollers. And none of it ever made sense to me. And one day a woman appeared, with long red locks that looked like rivers of wine

I watched as the clock ticked away seconds, minutes, and hours. Sitting behind the desk, so eager for the day to be over. For what? It became a ritual. Maybe it made time slower, maybe it made it speed up, either way it had become habit. I wanted to be done with the day so badly that I stopped enjoying the remarkable beauty around me, and I tuned the world out. And that time would come. The clock would strike the perfect moment, and in that moment, it would all be done. I'd get up, I'd rush off to my busy social life, consisting of the new season of Lost and perhaps take-out or maybe even a frozen meal. Alone, in an apartment with one bedroo