Growing Up Sketchy

I am a shadow of my former self
I person I do not admire
Nor one that I detest
Just a shadow
A smudge on the wall
That I notice but never clean
A fly that sits in the corner of the window
Never buzzing
Never bothering
A ice sculpture on the front lawn
A transparent figure
Not unlike a ghost
But cold, and melting
Losing space
Losing existence
But willing to come back with the seasons
Existing to observe
Never to act
To listen but not speak
I am a shadow of my former self
The parts are all there
But they are robotic
I an automaton
I a machine that moves from one place to the next
Twitching my fingers on a keyboard
Moving my wrists to fold mundane causes
Blanking on the answers
While speaking freely toward the questions
Like a paper bag unused below the register
Observant of the plastic
Useless beneath the metal
Used by those who think more
Who aged more
Lost in my icy metallic exterior
I am a shadow of my former self
A self who died at twenty-something
Completely content with being not content
Conceding to simplicity
Falling on to knees to beg for silence
Because the noise is negative
Not wanting death
Just wanting patience
I am a shadow of a self
Not former or otherwise
An illusion I concocted
While listening to the radio
Contemplating the state of the world
Blissfully listing listless trivia
Going from door to door
Car to work
Home to a place that used to be it
Sipping on water cups
Drinking when its hopeless
Feeling lost
But healthy
I am but a shadow of some other person
Who I was
Was lost in the street.

Catastrophe in Philosophical Problems Guised as Wisdom

If the cold strikes your heart
and you can no longer feel
Don't fear the distance
That the chilling feel reels
in the midst of the freezing
You can be sure itll hurt
But better to be cold
Then to meet flames to be burnt
Go on then
Argue semantics
Give into your institutions
And give me your merits
The world is cold
The sun is hot
And though these are truths
You're still taught their lies
The patience you feel
As the mosqutoes bite
Is as weak as the meek who will inherit the dump
Lest they stand up
Back to their knees
For they no longer have feet
Because to grow them
That's a lizard like feat.