It is hard to live with what has.....?

I sit with elbows on my knees and my chin on my fist, waiting for my thoughts to break and release my mind from its harvest of desires, intentions and regrets. In a struggle for endless acceptance for all that I could have done. I search for the complex end to quench my thirst for the code of this bitterness. If I could untangle what has happened, if I could undo the damage, as the wreckage entangles me like a yoke. You can imprison yourself within the confines of pain, in its self, you can not break-free of the Dragons claws that pinch you into the earth. No metal is needed to form the realestate of inability, no watch is governed for those that can't reach out. There is no addiction when taken into account the desire for motionless dignity, they look content, beneath the surface of consciousness. I have now, what I have always desired while I was young and overworked, time, space and exhaustive sleep, all that while complaining. In the shortness of time I have found the abundance of endless nothing in the constant, inseparable moments. As a child I wanted to learn, and I found the failures that would better me were the successes that would compell me to except the brush across my face. I proudly stood by the mess I made and stared at the right words cursed. I listened quietly, never letting go of the very brush crushed in my hand as my little fingers cracked, I never let go of that brush. I have painted for some of the most influential people in the world, but can't form the mindset to paint for myself today. I remember angrily ripping up a basket full of old work that I was once so proud of and cursing that which I was, who was I that wanted my old work, years of old work? I can not do what I have done before and am not as I was, why should it be here to remind me of what should have been? I regret that immature moment of time, but regret those beginnings to, I call them beginnings, since those beginnings have an end, before my time. It is hard to live with what has ..... ?