Nearly five months now, I've worked this way,
And it's finally taken it's toll.
My heart was open.
My soul is bared.
And now my mind is bare.

A full year was beyond me,
But I'm satisfied with what I've done.

I strive to create,

Yet my canvas remains clean.

Curse this temporary fate;

As an artist, I feel second-rate.

Clear, ever flowing,
The river coursing through me;
Carving it's own path.

A void brings nothing but pain,
This, I find, rings true throughout me.
A heart split in twain,
A stomach running empty.

Yet it's when my head feels full,
That it chooses to announce dismay;
It racks and beats against my skull,
And announces intent to stay.

Music of the soul
Carried aloft amidst winds
Leaves me feeling blue

Pen touches paper
As the sun kisses the horizon
Fulfilling an empty promise
To see this ritual through

The day has been stressful,
And my head feels overfull.

This blank page before me taunts me,
I can't seem to work thoughts free.

Alas, I'll write of this woe instead,
Begone dark thoughts within my head!

Even as my eyes grow ever-tired;
I'll stay awake this evening through.

I don't want to miss a moment with you.

A solipsistic onlooker
Viewing an isolated world.

It creeped through the darkness to me,
Only just perceptible to mine eye,
Yet present all the same.

As I looked closer, I could see it clear,
Clearer perhaps than I should,
I could see right on through it;
To another just behind.

There were two here all along,
Yet at first believed myself alone.
It wasn't a change in perspective,
I haven't moved an inch,
But focusing revealed more...

And more... and more... and more
Three, five, nine, eleven...
It's difficult to keep track;
Every open space occupied,
Every pocket suffocated,
Yet I somehow refused to see them.

Perhaps
These Ghosts
Are more real,
Than I gave them
The due credit;
They're everywhere
Everything.

A quiet moment,
Without you here it stretches
For time eternal

But this life will wait;
Pondering the horizon,
Wishing for your eyes.

After fear expires,
When love cannot fuel it's pyres,

What can remain but apathy?

It may seem minor to you
But to me it's so much more.
I know these flying beasts aren't new
And I know there's going to be more.

I need warmth and comfort,
Not ridicule.
Yet you seem to relish discomfort;
You enjoy making me feel a fool.

I feel utterly alone

Discounting my fears

Makes me feel more alone

I'd have thought that was obvious