On Experiencing Time by Josh Glasson

Cynical Wordsmith

With life spread out
Seemingly infinite
In either direction,
But distinctly
Not so,
It can be difficult
To elucidate the detail

When significant moments
Are forgotten,
Do they lose their importance?

If the future is so far ahead
That it’s hard to predict,
Is there any merit
To fanciful supposition?

Why am I now?
And why do my dreams
Seem to live elsewhere?

From places now forgotten,
Timelines bend
And stretch,
And continuing
Into that great unknown
For as long as they can.

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What Do I Want

Cynical Wordsmith

There’s so many questions
I didn’t have the answers to
For so long
And it seems strange
To answer them now.

That’s what this is though,
Maturation, growing older,
Growing responsible,
Outlining and defining
Who I am,
Knowing the answers
Instead of guessing at them.

And after searching
And tracing back roots
And boiling all the detail away,
It’s this:

I want to not feel alone.

Everything else is just detail
And situation
And experience
The list seems endless:
I want to be understood.
I want shared experiences,
To learn from
And look back on.
I want to help and protect,
As there are times
When I need the same.
I want to see the beauty
That lives in a dreary world.
I want to have a family,
Who I know I can rely on
And who can rely on me.
I want to keep figuring myself out

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Relational Feeling

Cynical Wordsmith

I never thought I would deserve love,
And to be honest,
I’m still full of doubts,
But I’m accepting it easier.
Hesitancy like the water
That clings to stay inside the glass
Rather than spill out.
I’m not so hard on myself now.
I’m starting to know
When I should be upset
For being walked on
And when I should give someone
A place and strength to stand.
I can see feelings in others
And they register like needles.
Some hurt, and some you can’t feel,
But they all get under your skin.

People are strange
And wonderful
And dangerous.

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A Moment

Cynical Wordsmith

I often forget
The discordant upheaval
That is utter happiness.
I can recall the feeling,
But to have it bled into me,
To have it
Shot into this body,
Is almost always unexpected.
The words slowly fill my heart,
And overflow freely
And the imaginative dreamscapes take shape,
And as I look around into the glazed over eyes,
I see them see me, for the first time in decades.
We didn’t know had passed yet
Because we forgot how to care about anything.
We look to the skies before we fall into impromptu graves
And feel that tremendous heat radiate off the Earth
And feel that weight of every hope for all that we could have done
And we watch as the world grows:
more bright,
more beautiful,
more incredible,
more happy.

And it’s gone. A moment,
Maybe two,
And it’s gone

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Sad Seasons

Cynical Wordsmith

Its like you move the seasons in me
Winter to fall, summer and spring,
Everything feels lost and in between
In this world made of you and me.

I don’t understand the whether,
And know you’ll mostly love me
But it’s so hard to see the sun
Behind clouds so complete.

Where should I go
On such cloudy days
Where love seems so temperamental
And so far way.

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Novel Writing by Josh Glasson

Cynical Wordsmith

I think the only way
I’ll finish a novel
Is if I write ten concurrently,
That way as I’m writing
I’ll pick which novel
Seems most interesting
And write.

My motivational field has been barren,
As they say,
But the soil’s still good
And ideas can still grow
Amongst the weedy distractions
And the shit-smelling fertilizer.
We’ll just need some rain
and time.

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Social Media by Josh Glasson

Cynical Wordsmith

I think I’m going to delete my social media.

I’ve never seen a tweet that changed my life.
I think the most I’ve ever gotten out of one,
Was a cursory conversation about someone’s death
Or an angry rant
Or the lastest memes.
Granted, I can see it’s use
For those who need to relay information quickly,
And I’ve looked up the status
Of downed websites
As Twitter-relevant google results,
But again that’s getting absorbed
Into an impatient, twitterpated world
That used to live in celebrity magazines.

I view TikTok as a means of entertainment,
Not of interaction
And may keep it around as such.
Much like Youtube,
Content is thrown at users
Interspersed with ads, of course,
And here, again, we find some utility
As an enjoyment engine
Or a feeling of belonging to a community
If you crave that sort of thing.

Instagram has pretty pictures.
I don’t…

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