FRIENDS BY WAY OF FRONTAL LOBE

at a low point i cant help but just shun everybody
look up and squint my eyes to glimpse your vantage(d) stage,
an ambition, reach and make my way back to a level of normalcy
stable base, longed pocket aces eludes me, my hand at the moment is of no use,
its a gamble when intensity is a feeling alien and full of unfamiliarity

don't be mad at me, but i know no one can really help it; i have to do this alone, alone i tell you,
and if that means i must go about it in selfish solitude, then let this fortress be my world,
with a spoon i will carve away at it, inch by square inch of dirt, till this kitchen utensil can dig no more.

break away, break away, i yearn to just throw it all away...
the feeling of giving up is insurmountable yet still i must push on
push back - i pull back; not a setback but one day i will explain
these seeming actions and non actions to you all

maybe that sunrise will come, and hopefully it is not too late
till then i will linger in my lonesome, with this simmering silence
brimming forth with regret and aggrandized role reversals



- i am christian's frontal lobe,
i am the reason for;
the balance between good and bad,
future consequence recognition,
and long term memory retrieval.






[note to self]
an ode to friends long ignored, unresponded to or forgotten: not by design but by need.