Stuck in my head
It is a huge mushy mess
  Anxiety
       Overthinking
               Depression
       Insomnia
  Over reacting
Some days are better
                      Most days are better
But my head is still a mess
Just a little more
    well dressed.

You are open like a book
Telling stories of your past
Being too truthful
And loud at each word
Telling things left unsaid
But you keep talking
Digging yourself deeper
Then you were last.

The Road goes ever on and on

Down from the door where it began.

Now far ahead the Road has gone,

And I must follow, if I can,

Pursuing it with eager feet,

Until it joins some larger way

Where many paths and errands meet,

And whither then? I cannot say.

In Dwimordene, in Lorien

Seldom have walked the feet of Men,

Few mortal eyes have seen the light,

That lies there ever, long and bright.

Galadriel! Galadriel!

Clear is the water of your well,

White is the star in your white hand

Unmarrred, unstained is leaf and land,

In Dwimordene, in Lorien

More fair than thoughts of Mortal Men.

To Flammifer of Westernesse.

Public right of way
Ancient pathways
over common land
where livestock is grazed
in a traditional manner
It is important
that this local source of food
continues
for farmer's markets
and fairgrounds
Local produce
being much better for our health
than imports
from far away

find your hand in the mist
chasing shadows bleeding into night

strawberry juice coating the throat
kisses are like a sunrise

if this is drunk then let me keep drinking
the sight of you

the bubbles rising to the surface
like some newly-discovered champagne

Love me deep
Love me true
And maybe I will give you coconut
From my hips too.

I can touch you
And feel you
I can hear you
And see you
This is real
But why do you feel like an Angel.  
Too perfect to be real.

The rich do it,
And so do the poor.

The greatest, The brightest,
All nothing more

Than a wick, ignited
And struggling for

More air;
More time to discern

What will happen
When there's nothing left to burn.