Bite the Dust

We all spend a night empty handed and empty hearted. Tuck your happy illusioned friends away and lay alone wondering why not you. Rooms and parties full of solo cups of confidence; songs requiring dates to dance to, and neither were offered to you. Your wit and charm lay on deaf ears and false judgments or predetermined opinions. Your glow went unnoticed amidst the candle lit windows of old New York at bed time. Every detail specifically selected the hours leading up to the nights endeavor and all thrown off in unison at a hollowing nights end. What blurs initializations promising sparkle? When does a singles nights loneliness become a repetitive sadness to a yearning soul for companionship? When does the random night alone become a trend of self uncertainty and sure doubt in self worth and sure conspiracy? Repetitive loss does not validate quality of choice, rather diminishes hope in the quality of the minds vision to treat the sentence of solitary confinement to its weary heart. Settling for less will not cure the souls melting boundaries. Shimmers of hope mend the dripping emotional goo like freshly made creepy crawlers to a boy lost in his closet of wonder and time. Wonder and time. Those used to cure the soul of the youth for hours on end until exhaustion from the unrelenting battle of both was ceased by a third party. The subconscious yearning for a break the heart would never give up on and the mind never dulled to explore. A souls subconscious at odds with the bodies for its hopes, dreams and realities seemingly always regulated by another. You can't make me wonder about you, dream about you or realistically be with you; but if i wonder about you, dream about you and realistically find you, my mind heart and soul will never let go of you.