I never felt so lost as all the seas are twisting the souls forever daunting amongst the tangled weeds perceived to be my bed. Instead, I find my feet dangling atop a sailor’s head and all because I have no love left to pretend.
The seas had been emptied to drown the crowded sorrows and all the earth has dried to crumbling bone. Crushed! That is the sentiment heard around the world amongst cries of starving hands. Sand sifting through fingers atop the mountain peak.
Beware! A man comes from the east to tempt you with her feast of golden hues and noxious smells of burnt sugar. Their evil plan dispels the glamour of romance.
Take me now! Let it be done!
The minutes are literally ticking away second by second. I am not lost in a satisfying romantic dream. Rather I am locked up in a reality that steals every comforting thought. To escape this would mean freedom. Imprisoned in my mind is a small child being forced to eat man’s stale bread.
Reader, If nothing makes sense it is simply because I am half awake and writing this as it appears in my mind. Hopefully a deep slumber overtakes me soon. An escape to some other moon. The pink one is expired.
I haven’t been reading much blog posts. I find in my depressed moods i can barely emerge from my cocoon… and anxiety is worse to try and read.
Is it selfish to wonder if others are reading me? Heck, i rebel against these letters. Yet, they some how keep the union strong. Unite against me. Bond. The New Army Brigade, 26 letters strong.
They force the issue. I retreat. They win the argument… A thought is but a rain cloud pouring down angst against me. The evidence sufficient to imprison me for years. And the nervous out pouring brings the show curtain down. Behind-the-scenes i dance. The music puts pen to paper, to recite the days events.
I need to rest. I know. But a thinking mind rarely obeys. And so i bore you with my show.
Guess we are even. I am bored by you too. So lets be bored together.
all these stories
i read them…
pause in the middle
of the road
to notice the caution sign
turning cars approach
from all directions
where are the exclamation points, periods, and paranthesis?
these neglected words
dismiss traffic signs
thickly settled, a clue
to, too many people
tracing the same thick yellow line
replacing them with broken hash marks
where passing allowed
poets are drivers, see
fast and frantic
too traveled to make a difference