dreams&nightmares

Conscious

When I say the word “Conscious”, what comes to your head? 

Is it by simple definition a state of awareness in which one perceives their surroundings?

Tell me, are the voices constantly hounding in your head too?

I’ve pounded on the structures of my conscious till my knuckles bled blue.

Stomped with lead shoes in a fit so hard that my skull fell through and I tumbled down my medulla.

Bouncing off my vertebrae hitting every nerve in the way and it’s urgent to say that it was not tough to look in the mirror above my bathroom everyday and say that i’m not good enough.

Perfection is personal achievement.

And expectations can tear you apart.

I’m running this rat race at a gnats pace but can’t find where to start.

And I’ve never felt the need to stare at stars, but it’s because we are conscious of our surroundings that we feel the need to measure up. 

Instead of the need to pleasure us and those around; we choose to keep our nose to the ground and only see whats below.

I mean I don’t know you but i’m not afraid to fall in to the sky.

The ground is what hurts and once you hit the bottom gravity will nail you to the dirt.

I’ve seen people with broken down dispositions. 

Eyes that don’t reflect or shine but instead give the vibe that they would rather look inside and critique.

I’ve been there. I’m sure most people have.

And I know how it feels to drag myself to places i did not want to be.

And how the scariest thought in my fucking mind was “Are they conscious of me?”

I could rant about not giving a fuck. I’ve done it before. But how can one not when it is almost the very theme of this generation.

Respect has always been important to me. 

And I don’t know if its the changing times, but now its a sordid disease.

People treat others like objects and thats why our ghettos have projects.

And through our economics the topics of our morals have changed. 

Two different Profits (prophets) reign; money and media moguls, the faces change but the message remains “I am your standard”

A wise man once told me to stop wishing for illusions of grandeur and focus on the process.

It’s alright to improve.

Look up at the sky everyday.

If your conscious is gravity keeping you fixed to the floor, then just know that if it’s not there you will soar to the atmosphere and nothing will touch you.

Well maybe Jet Blue but that’s irrelevant.

I know I haven’t felt the pain of some but i’ve gone past the point that my brain is numb and just gave up.

But I don’t have to erase past sutures in order to embrace my future.

The past is who I was.

This is who I am.

The way that this poem comes to an end does not matter.

I’ll focus on each letter and climb my ladder to the last rung.

And even if I don’t make it to the top I’ll be higher than when I begun.