"why?"

I am so near,

but ever so far

My brain feels deformed

made out of half connected neurons

not capable of clear thought,

Half-animal but without the instinct

for survival.

When I was younger,

I liked to stare at clouds

but now it pains me to.

They represent pure carefree days,

sitting right there before my eyes

but unattainable,

untouchable,

slowly floating away

Im growing old.

my hariline will receed,

but not as quickly as my soul

into a newfound abyss.

I dont care for much anymore,

and I guess it shows

as people who once listened

move on with their lives.

Like this poem, my mind is unordered

A misprint of a telephone book

in unalphabetical order.

not that anybody uses them anymore

Just like me.

I look at the big picture too closely-

The universe under a microscope,

warps my goals.

Maybe one day I’ll be free.