Everyday I'm writing

Every note I'm taking reckons London as everyday struggle, never ending this regurgitated cycle of time and money.
Conspiracy of the world ending, news recites propaganda to foolish viewers on potato couches.
Lost in themselves they have given up.
Everyday I'm writing the messy poems to myself, the self centred of my passage to self made, so no one can see where it's coming from.
Recapturing these past events, I write to feed the voids that left my holes empty to fill, empty to dig a grave for misery sonnets to the general public to reign.
Everyday I read and read these classics Homer brought The Odyssey to my chapters of time.
We shall feel at home within the Deptford palace.
My life breathes lungs to its capacity, I learn the literatures of Shakespeare in Old English, write monologues that breathe theatre stage to Putney Arts Theatre.
I need to write also to help breathe these pages like brown paper bags.
Nothing but the ghosts and shadows entering the invisible air of humans.
In a deserted ghost town, still finding my voice.
The uniqueness I kept covered from family and friends.
Not understanding the visions I've created the isolated friend, I had to be different from the rest, a destiny beyond the mechanics of a 9 to 5.
But can you make money of the writings on a wall piece, where bullshit sells and I'm out of options to forget it.
Never, my life is in these writings wherever I go these scriptures shall be remembered by the writer, the lyrics of a lyricist.
The poet laureate of your high school.
I need to write, I express these unfolded words.
No matter the messy poems the better, it doesn't matter if it didn't catch your ears, I'm being original not sounding like the others on the otherside of the fence.
Everyday in the open parks, I watch the birds wallow theme songs of a brighter present, a mellow morning rises the next season.
Some choose not to write themselves everyday, or envision a better tomorrow.
So they choose what they know, stay boxed in like hamsters, use the same formula over and over again.
Never wanting to leave their comfort zone, being institutionalized condenses chances to go outside the box.
It's a big world out there, countries of each continent wants to hear you loud and proud, my wings take a hold of abstract chemistry, reality will always be there so why stress it to a degree of the same old story.
Everyday my pen unfolds the missing letters to running emotions, signalling the rushing waves of the missing ink.
Everyday I'm asking questions, I'm finding the right answers I know nothing about.
What I don't know is more frightening.
So I have to explore the reason, the library shall guide me, pencils will follow I'm not a conformist.
I hold onto the endless pen, not letting go off its thinking cap.
And we are the chosen few to needle these marks on the edge of the Earth.
I'm seeing into the void, there it is, a complete story of the prince charming.