An open window

halfway shut keeps me optimistic that everything around me will make sense…eventually.  The air escapes inside and the sweat on my fingertips shiver with heated anticipation.  And I write to find truth; to find the answers of hidden questions within my own mind.  I write in Bold to express tears of laughter that cover up a pain that have bullied me for years.  But now I’m fighting back with underlined run-on sentences of a built up strength only paused by a comma (,).  Traffic noise argues with my thoughts…temporarily.  And I write again.  There’s a lot of bullshit in this world, it’s usually the bullshit I misspell…on purpose.  Lies challenging every moment I think is honest; exclamation points (!) non-expressive to the heart.

I search for truth in strange places.

A trash can…

sitting empty in the corner of my room is filled with cluttered confusion.  A stench lingers out and blends with the oxygen I need to think.  Time can be waste and so can life when we fail to understand the little things that we are quick to throw away.  Like a half written stanza on a torn piece of paper.  It deserved to grow but now it makes it home in that trash can of incompleteness.  And I write.  To unravel thoughts into something more clear but the only clarity is within the chaotic streaming of consciousness in what we believe to be truth.

I find truth in strange places.

© 2010

Tarringo T. Vaughan