Everyone always asks, "What is the meaning of life?" but they never really want to hear the answer - or they didn't think to inquire in the first place. We have our hands full of ghosts, our minds full of repetition, and our souls so weighed down with (hate) fear – when do we have time to figure it all out? Stop running. Stop hiding. Start searching within that vast cataclysmic tomb throbbing within your chest. Claw your way to the surface for a breath of fresh air and come back from the dead. Wash. Rinse. Repeat. Unearth your doughty treasure and let your face sink into soft folds; your hair unsheathes thine own melanin, and with one last raspy breath say unto the world “The meaning of life is…” and continue to let the mystery unfurl.

Welcome to my home,

Of madness and chaos

with no logic, no tales to tell,

no stories of actual matters

that people care to read and write,

Just whatever insanity is woven up

By the imagination wheel

In the hectic area of my mind!

You see in the young adult mind,

It's a wonderful combination of

emotions and ideas in here!

The brains of a college student,

The emotions of a high schooler,

The maturity of a middle schooler,

all wrapped up with the attention span,

of a little innocent preschooler.

But this mind isn't innocent by any means,

Oh no, it's far beyond innocence,

Far beyond the ideas of lacking,

In knowledge of life, reality,

How crushing it is to lose,

Games, Loved ones, Competitions,

How grief rips your brain in half,

And you rip on yourself for every mistake.

How when you lay down to sleep,

You remember everything as your brain

goes over what memories will be lost,

And head down the garbage chute,

Of lost dreams and long-forgotten times,

When things were alright for once

Now it's the land of embarrassing moments

and missed opportunities you incredibly regret.

This mind has all of your worst nightmares

and all of your greatest achievements!

After we leave the land of memories,

that we'll not be able to recall tomorrow,

We can view the worst things that

the world and insanity has to offer.

The gruesome deaths learned of

reality's wars and murderers.

The killers and defenders that bleed,

And the stain the ground red for

opposing causes that gain nothing,

but filled graveyards and crying mothers

as their sons go to join a cause

without knowing they wouldn't return,

because after all unless you're like me,

Would you walk into your death?

Should death be approached as an old friend,

Will that make it any less painless,

take away the ideas of what you're leaving,

and join the realm of who knows,

To satisfy the curiosities of afterlife

And achieve the goals we once had

Of answering the questions

that were once seen as unanswerable?

But running red blood droplets have yet

To show what happens after it all stops,

And we watch as they bleed, glad it's not us,

Because if it doesn't affect us then who cares.

You don't see the rich reality stars going,

Cleaning up the leftovers of Nature's attacks,

They have better things to do of course,

Like argue over wearing the same outfit twice.

So after we leave the realm of nightmares,

reality and everything we hold dear

and push away after 5 seconds because

as we all know, "Blood, ew." and the common

"Homeless Veteran who stinks, ew."

We can move to the imagination machine,

creativity at it's finest, pumping out it all,

My nightmares and worst thoughts!

Blood is nice, spiders and falling

and drowning and realizing that it's a big world

and questioning if one person matters,

but of course they do, everyone does,

Who else will make sure the economy moves?

But does that matter either, does it all,

The wars, battles, fights and lives,

The feelings and drama and bloodstains that never dry

If we forgot it all, would the unknowing future know the difference?

If we erased the bad and spoke only of the good,

what would that do to the world?

If we erased the good and spoke only of the bad,

what would that do to the world?

If we keep destroying the world,

what would that do to the future?

Besides screw them over royally of course.

What if the universe is a Matrix,

A red pill blue pill creation to entertain minds

while bodies have other uses for the higher up

beings that know more than us all.

Or what if our galaxy is an alien's marble,

that he sends flying into the road while playing,

And we could be run over and destroyed,

With it all being for naught?

What if the fictional movies aren't really fiction,

but options that can happen,

Our futures that we're watching happen,

yet doing nothing about, simply put,

because with no major short term effects,

that people care to notice anyway,

most just don't care about the long term.

Hence many problems that occur every day.

But we can throw it all to the wind, not care,

and keep writing our hearts out,

hoping that'll make a difference,

Until we die and realize that we did nothing

except put words on papers and screens,

For others to read as they watch our planet die

From their spaceship windows

To the next planet we can mess up.

So let's leave this realm of imagination,

Let's give up on thinking and deciding

and realizing our mistakes

and wallowing in the sorrow of it all

But we can't because here we are,

reading words, writing words,

thinking words, words, words,

And being sucked back in.

To the rambles of a midnight speaker,

And insomniac melodramatic queen

of unimportance and irrelevancy

speaking of her madness in words,

insanity in letters and sounds to communicate

through particles bouncing in the air

and light flying through your eyes,

As it all just stops.