You think you got it all figured out. It All make sense in your head. Until that tinglin starts rumbiling in your chest turns from stress to dread.

Countless minutes you will never get back and the problems you had were few to many and you carried the weight of them upon your back.
The problems were few and now they begin to stack.

The gasp will surely ruin you; when it hits, it attacks. You find the closest thing to you and slide down it with your back. Find yourself layed ruined until you find yourself on your knees and hands. This is the epitome of the broken man. The hardest hit to the heart surely would **** the average man. Yea but you keep going and God just praying you can find your way back. There has to be a reason that this happens to me? Yea well I have faith in time you will begin to see.

Listnen," friend to friend " these things tend too surely pan themselves out. I know noones perfect but you can try to be. But if the risk is too high you can find the balance or try to work something out or in between.

But right now the most important thing you can do is just breathe. Heres a bag, put your head between your knees. Slow down, control the pace of your breathe. think only about overcoming this, just breathe.

-RSC

A man in his suffering bridaled by his toungue. A collection of thoughts that are reduced to a sum. With his fate at hand at the rolling of a thumb. His attempt at redemption is met to be shunned. He will forever be held by the passing of the moon and sun. He watches helplessly wanting to say so much but never does. He is his own prisoner. He want's to be but never does. He is the man who does not understand true love. He is the man that once was.

-RSC

The sun rises over the hills touching everything turning it gold. The dew rises from the cactus as the scorpion rises from it's slumber; surely a sight to behold.

  Another day has begun another story is yet to be told. For it has been written so many times it has became a story of old. But today is no different. It is the day the world was sold.

Our protaganist a young man is not carried by the plot. He is not conflicted by his emotions. He needs no changing of his thought. He instead drives the story forward with the unraveling of his soul.

He finds himself pitted between himself and the world. Like a tree that is battered by the wind refusing to fold. He is no ordinary man, he himself has a well defined goal.

Although his expection is not certain he has yet be told that the road ahead is trecherous; it is filled with opstacles and it has many holes.

His plan is to stand his ground and by no amount of money can this man be sold.

If you find this man to be unwilling to change, there is something you must know; this man has been here before.
This man has seen with his eyes just how the story goes.

His countrymen are in turmoil held captive by the idea that a tyrant would have complete power or complete control.

They suffer from hunger for lack of rations. They trust not one another for fear that they may delivered over to the one that is in control. They our desperate for a hero

But little do they know that one of them would spark a fire that would trigger a movement that no authority on earth could slow.

Rumors of his valor would spread across the land. Surely this is he that would take the stand. All to soon would the time be that a man would rise to power. That there would be a new king in the land. One who could break the powers and fairly distrabute the wealth by the turning of his hand.

The people were filled with hope while the weak could barely stand.

His movement grew in numbers his trust would cascade in the enemies betrayal amongst themselves. Even the powerful tyrant's minions would show support for this man.

The moment was here so fast as if it were controlled opposition. Now it was time for the peoples voice to be heard. It was time they take a position.

Put they're trust in man or support the opposition.

As you would guess the choice was all so easy, so many would say. Little did they know that would be when they gave what little they had left away.

Plunged into chaos for the people had been betrayed. This man was not they're hero. He was the embodiement of they're willingness to give it all away.

-RSC

The wind off the ocean reaches inland carrying a thought for me. Some would say an epiphany and some would not believe.

Without direction it is a burden that's fire is dwindeling. I scatter to find twig's that gather the heats intensity.

I have spoken to soon to see it's light burn out to see the light veer away from my feet.

I counted my egg's before they hatched. But I did not count the cost.

I blame everyone and everything but me.

-Rsc

I can see the road ahead of me. I try to make adjustments so I can be ready. I breathe slower to get a fast beating heart steady.

The rocks slide sweeping the ground from beneath me; carring me over a tune in the pattering of my fingers.

The water in the poison dollutes the pain from the stingers.
The pace of the tone hits a pause followed by pounding of the keys dangaling from theyre stringers.

I am unequivacly astonished by the clarity of my sight in the breath of the moments leading after. My body tenses up. After all who could be prepared for this fall.  I am getting to the point. Im not trying to pad the time or trying to stall.

I have came so far. So I can again. But this is not some story..My life could seriously end. I go back and forth until I come back to the moment that lead me to where and when.

Head first, I going over the deep end. I am tip towing over the glass shards of where I began.

Flashes of memories and aspiration from yearning within. Zero to sixty taking my second, third and fourth chances over and failing again.
Suspended in the air and this is what I bargain with.

The moment ends and all the noise and stimulation comes to a sudden end. I notice I am still in my car on the shoulder with hazards blinking. Did I black out again?

The road ahead me washes away collapsing to a crack several feet away.
I am still here.
Where do I even begin?

-RSC

I am not as close as I would want to be. I look around me and I have everything I need. The lightness of my steps is not light enough for a gentile humiliation worth notoriety. The perception through my gaze is not the sight I want to see. The intentions of my touch is not the action I wanted you to see.

I look again at myself this is not who I want to be. Scars and strife belittle the narration of the overarching story.

It doesnt give you the intimate details that took me from where I was to the me you now see. It doesnt say where I am and where I am going.

I dig in my heels and set my sight forward. That was behind me will try to remind me but I will pay little attention as I quicken my pace abrubtly.

Rembrants impression on a zimmer symphony has as much inspiration as it allows to be. As I have as much ambition as I have allowed myself to be. My discipline is as un-organized as a branch fractal to scatter it's leaves.

My euphanisms are as practical as you have empathy. My mind is as deep as an infants reach. My nostalgia is littered with grief. Every time the wind blows you see a different side of me.

I am for every cause and yet I spend little to no time perfecting the flaws in me. I will put on a show just so you side with me. I will justify so long as its not revealing a deeper truth about me.

I have all the time and money and yet I am not free. I am loved by many and yet not truly known except by those who are close or my family. I have pretended for so long I donot remember who I am besides thats the part I find most disgusting. I am ashamed of who I am so I put up a fasad of who I want you to see.
I am an attention ***** and you spend all your time and money being entertained by me.

-RSC