Simple Complexity

At times, words seem to flow endlessly and effortlessly to the exact expressions that they were created, while so much more consistently are my thoughts trapped in what I wanted to communicate to change in the world's existing mediocrity and strike the thoughts in minds of such a unmindful culture to what their existence is made to glorify. What is so familiar but uncertain and evokes so many deadening emotions inside the things of life that are wishing and waiting to be sharpened into expressions through my pencil, I cannot force them, the inner workings of a restless soul, to things they can not explain or attire with their authored meanings through speech and language. It is my impression that it amply seems that through the things most understood between a people's actuality whose bond is strengthened by love, it is not the common "communications" that convey the soul of a person. Words are mere fillers of existence, things carelessly used but can be unintentionally used to sharply ache and gash at the recesses of the heart. Life seems so droll to me that the expressionistic parts of itself are fogged by the simple lack of communication, yet how can we communicate with our insides locked up behind things that are so uneasily answered? Life, to me, is so simply complex.