Fixing What's Right - Breaking What's Broken

I find myself wondering if my maneuverings in this world are the frivolous meanderings of a toddler in a walker grasping at anything interesting; anything shiny or new. I find myself having the best of intentions, and looking at situations wanting to improve upon what exists. In the end, many of my tinkerings have wound up exacerbating whatever issue was at hand. Why would you fix what is right? Why would you continue to break what is broken? What compels me to dip my finger into every puddle in my life's backyard. When the rain is steady I manage to create a monsoon; when the sun shines, I want it to go super nova.

My world is of my creation; I took responsibility for it the moment I began supporting myself. Am I Frankenstein creating his monster? All of these questions swirl around in a sea of thoughts - I have no answers, only more questions.

Recognizing my patterns is a beginning, but there is work to be done - restraint to be had; and I had never been one for restraint.

In The End

For some time now I’ve been traveling down a dark tunnel.

            air rushing past my face, arms wrapped around my body, and eyes searching. . .

            and nothing,

            nothing is here

so, I can’t rest

and my feet are sore.

I can’t sleep. . .

            sometimes I reach out

            my fingers penetrate the walls

            slipping into its sticky outer

            stretching, making tense strands as I pull away

            then snapping them with my strength trying to escape

Curse me, its maker!

            all in this dark hungry place

            alone to suffocate

            fighting battles with fate.

Tomorrow, Get Pointy. . .