Sympathy.

It seems there is a limited amount of sympathy in the world, as it suffers from problems such as inflation.
An advert showing children starving may have caused controversy in times previous, but such views are the norm.
How is it that we can only care about the shocking?
I mustn't evoke sympathy in anyone else, for that would be truly evil, I would be lessening the severity of death in the eyes of my peers. I must paint on a smile to improve the world.

Greed pt.2

It seems odd, in this opulent corner of the world, that greed is still a thriving part of the human mind.
While true, on a vague level, I must elaborate onto a more precise plain of description.
It scares me, that "All you can eat" buffets can exist.
If someone is hungry, and purchases some food, and eats it, that person is likely to have gained utility greater than the price of the foodstuffs. This utility is diminished, however, by the finite (Hopefully) size of ones stomach.
With the all you can eat buffet, however, it seems that people eat to the point of discomfort, then continue to eat, to get "Value for money."
I cannot comprehend what these people are paying for, they are not paying for happiness, they are paying for discomfort and ill-health.
Perhaps there is an economic model that can explain such barbarian desires, but until I fully understand that, I am confused by the larger than life buffet types. Aggression has taken agrip of me, I fear the potbellied folk have stirred a greater punishment on me, than they have on themselves.

Hiding

Adrenaline masks unhappiness, all I have to do is to be permanently terrified.

Fraction

Within a fairly close group of people, fun is limited by the lowest denominator, not the average of the people.

A trade off

Often, this "human nature" is referenced, yet it has never been explained. As far as I can see, knowing the lyrics to the same songs as others seems to count as growth. Originality crushed, eyes bright with a glitzy encumbrance.  Is that all there is to maturity? The spouting of meaningless popular auditory filth? Ignorance isn't just bliss, but it is the only way to survive.

Eek

I can't post on a computer.
I'd complain, but blogger is free.
It seems that I need money to even be unhappy these days.

Craving

When happy, I ask myself "why?"
When sad, I ask myself "why not?"
A pessimist drowning in happiness,
I need you anguish,
Now things are my fault,
and not some physicalist imbalance.
The inevitable paradox will steal my sleep.

Swell

An feeling of worth has come to me in the night,
A sprinkle of motivation added by the sandman.
My behaviour, reverting to its former ferocity.
"There's plenty of fish in the sea"
What a shame that I am fast becoming a giddy kipper.

Reset

My poems, while still a simple way of presenting my life and the issues I experience, has become much more of a diary of mistakes. This is possibly a good thing, as people may be able to relate to me, however, I very much doubt that there is anyone who is foolish enough to lose both their passport and their wallet in the same instance.
Fortunately, for me, both articles have returned, and in a similar fashion, I hope to return to a way of whimsical metaphors and other such expedients of expression.

Scaffolding

More of the same, shame the same is awful.
The care of others is fickle, at a time when I require a human scaffold the very most.
This existence must be some sort of punishment.

Heck.

Without money, and a passport, I am geographically trapped.
"You're basing your depression on your hatred of this part of the world, not the whole world, you'll escape and it'll be marvellous and you'll be happy"
Such phrasing taunts me as my means to happiness are destroyed by either crime or carelessness.
Yet another level of constraint.

Bread

Park Bench.
Tears, but no bread.
No hope, no bread.
At least the ducks empathise.

Red

As far as bad ideas go, bullfighting is one of them.
Particularly if that bull is me.
My desire to dissipate grows daily, and so does my longing to make an impact on the world.
Evidently, my anthema is unaware of such feelings, and resorts to taunting.
He will pay, one day - such a terrible thing to say, but I owe it to myself, I am the enforcer of my own judgement. I decide on what is right and wrong and punish people accordingly.
Disgust strikes the faces of anyone who I invite to the sanctum of such emotion.
"But that's illegal!" The consequence of my actions leading to a fear of incarceration. In reality, if I acted upon my desire for vengeance, my aims would have been completed. The state cannot cage a dead man. Their sanction is flawed. Retribution is simply sophistry. I have learnt to hate myself for such desires; not the greatest plan for one who feels life is not worth living. We are taught to respect life, as humans; however, respect must be earnt, and I fear I have not just been dealt a bad hand, but I have been hustled.
Vengeance is all that stops me from becoming a memory. So far I have resisted temptation, but I must view my rage as a fatalist. I have truly lost control over myself. Let's hope this malediction is cured with monotony and anguish.
If taunted again, I forcee that my daydreaming wrath will become reality. For such weakness, and such strength, I am sorry.

Late

Late for "The rest of my life" apparantly.
Ignore the fact that i'd be skipping the inevitable decay of humanity,
focus on the issue that someone somewhere might shout.
No-one shouted. No-one batted an eye lid.
No-one ever bats an eye lid.
I wouldn't be surprised if apple produced a product designed to stop the destruction of lunchboxes by sports equipment.
No-one ever bats an iLid.

Hope

"A problem shared is a problem halved"
Someone or my unconcious said that once or never.
It seems, that in this desolate plain of repetition,
I have found hope.
Hope, that indicates expectation.
And expectation that can provide disappointment.
Curse you, logical hatred.

Commatose

Instead of the "What a day!" response that I desired,
I have been ambushed by a punctuation,
"What, a day?"
Blue Monday blew.

Envelope

I sit, on the mat, by the door.
I wait.
Time passes, as time does.
When someone reads something, the words and their effects are not instant.
Either that or I am meaningless.
Time passes, as time does.

Eek

An aplogy, of sorts.
To the people who do not currently care, but perhaps will in the future.
My timekeeping skills are truly terrible.
I can't decide whether or not that would be a useful skill to have if I were to be a time traveller.

Excitement

Once again, my life consists of planning and words that frustrate philosophers.
This, is because today, I am excited.
Excitement for a minor event, when such a major problem looms.
My unquantifiable emotions shuffle further,
Perhaps the cloud has passed?

The

Can poetry ever capture the mundanity of parts of life?
 The, the, the, the, the,  the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, the, there is my attempt.

A stutter in the unending pace of decay.

Technology

A dear friend,
One of logic,
and clinical decision making.
Machine of wonder, why wont you work?
You do not feel my disappointment, and I do not feel yours,
for I am but a cretinous clown.
A helpless mechanical child,
left to starve by its exiguous adopted parent.
Forgive me, dear computer.

Imagine

"Imagine a world with no references to music" said my communist friend, Jonny; Leninist.

Anachronism

Suited man,
stands,
demands quicksands,
in the promised land.
No religion,
no opinions,
no contradiction.
Heads bob,
I sob,
yet the group,
rubes, not rubies,
not fit to test a tube,
"move to the groove"
A nod will suffice,
saves the use of ice,
hit then head hits gneiss,
thinks the pessimist, the sweet generaliser. 
Hateful, as I am to this in group, shunning lambastes.

According to plan.

Who is plan, why does everything have to go according to he/she.
Ambiguity is a friend to the friendless.
What was once a great idea,
has decayed,
defiled by a limited vocabulary and an overwhelming fear of sounding pretentious.
To finish with, a vague generalisation,
relate to me,
pretend i'm human.
Time changes all.

Symptoms.

A civil war within my own being.
I fear that my bowel will hold a coup d'état and I will defecate until my death.

Ailments

My neck has become a whip.
Sneezes erupt from my enervated body.
Motivation has been sapped, as desires loom.
Inward shift, of the PPF of my aims.

Sadness

Sadness, in another, can confuse more than sadness within oneself.

Birthday wants

Happy birthday, here is some capitalism.
Greying hair, greying hope.

Emptiness

Nothing happened.

Well, probably something, somewhere. 

Some philosopher probably thinks that nothing counts as something.

If that is the case, then not even nothing happened.

Greed

All you can eat, not all you can enjoy.

New year

A new year brings new motivation, why is it that improvement and aims decay?