The lady is an hourglass
A real endearing shape
her eyes have got me grounded
her gaze I can't escape.

The lady is an hourglass
voluptous and curvy
and to be fair, her longing stare
is making me feel pervy.

The lady is an hourglass
and not just skin and bone
she makes me want to dim the lights
and disconnect the phone.

The lady is an hourglass
she looks like she'd be fun
as she smiles at the discomfort
that she seems to cause my mum.

The lady is an hourglass
into her I'd  gladly fall
if she wasn't made of paper
and taped to my bedroom wall.

Dear reader,

Have I mastered the art of being sad, making my everyday living slumbering in dreamland fantasy?  Then my reality is in wintry weathery moments that I feel numb from too much cold. Is isolation my best buddy for the mean time? Well those questions will remain in this journal, to immortalize the moment of my depressing situation.

I brought up the transparent duct tape in placed always for people to see the lively image I pretend. Sometimes I’m tired of the choices and expectations I created. Though I never regret all of them, I just find them depressing for often times I wonder did I really make an awful choice.  Still at the back of my mind I fantasize a positive outcome of all those.

Wisdom grows as you aged, Maturity becomes you and Changes have eaten you. Now I wonder did I totally embrace reality or my life in tune with negativity. Despite all this, I will surely survive and live up to the choices I created. Someday I will surpass this in time.

            Thank you for reading…

Your friendly neighbor,
w.Pax :(

sadness
seeps
silently
from
beneath
her
lashes
spreading
salted
w­ater
down
her
cheeks,
sighing
she
swipes
the
offending
sorrow
aside...
smiles
­and
steps up
into
the
startling
bright
spotlight
to
sing
the
saddest
of
songs
......

i am left
with out want
or passion.

.....spent.....

yet when lifetimes
ago,
but, just moments,

i was the eye,
of a malestrom,
caught between,
the fall of water
from the shower's head
and the waterfall
of lust,

converted into love....

as hips ******
and receded,
in waves, tidal
i became....
but a delta,
for the rushing tides
and we met,
                    as liquid.

Indecisiveness**
            enough as it is,
I stay in the confines of my comfort,
choices I begun to prolong.
Waiting for something
probably won’t come.

I walk back and forth,
And climbing ladders  
             - up and down,
       an unchanging routine
    draining the life-force
         of my pretend smile.
Sluggishly the plot-holes
       starts to appear
   messing the careful laid-out script
                 I master to act.
Barriers starts to crack, little by little
I gather the courage
   to put the imaginary duck-tape
   to hold them together
       a little while longer
until the final choice, is made sure
without fear and hesitation.

and tonight it is
the elder, mother god
of which i speak....

she  snores and snuffles
in the lazyboy chair
slumped awkward
and sombulant,
akin to a ragdoll,
carelessly,
tossed aside,
after a day's hard play.

and it is in the cracks
and crinkles, both large and minute that craze and track
accross her well worn,
well loved face
that i see,
the god-dust...
lingering.

and as i gently,
place a woolen wrap
over her tired old body.

i take a moment...
to give thanks and
worship,
her hard earned diety.

and the mothergod...
slumbers, snoringly on.

i am tangled up ........and caught out in the..... doodles on my writing pad ....lines of ink ....turning circles up..... on itself..... great loops of nothing...... but sloppy eternity..... rings ...and . ....sideways.... sloping eights and ......sloveny obese zeros i am... hung up .. on time ..at present ..small moments... . .....forty-five years...of.... fore-evers ..... and miniscule secondia.... just hung.. up... ....doodling.. wasting ...time
timing space....crazy paving
.....the forcourt.. of my
oodling.... idling brain.