I know that life is open-ended
Just look at all the stars just hanging out in space.
But there's only one way we can mend this fall,
And they're following or wandering a way

I've tried to change up my perspective,
Just look at all the ways that I can see those stars.
But I cannot find a comfortable position here on Earth,
I guess I'll move to Mars.

I'm trapped like a rodent
in a maze of my own creation.
It's weaved together,
Poorly,
with my own frustration.
Callused Overgrown.
I've come to revelation
Its now 10 feet thick.
I couldn't escape if I pleased.
None can come in.
So leave me to whither,
In this hedge all my own.
I've grown quite accustomed,
To the leaves when they grow.

I left my shadow behind once,
Or I think it had left me.
Maybe I had stared to much,
Or give it what it needs
I think I lost my shadow once
In a dream within a dream
When I awoke with quite a hunch,
It appeared I couldn't scream.
Last night I drew my shadow,
I had found there with you,
Laughing, Crazy, Dancing, O!
Waxing alongside the moon.
Last night my shadow hid away,
It had never used to do.
Likely sick of solid decay,
I know I would be too.
This eve I followed Shadow,
Through moonlit forested planes,
Among starred skies I yelled, please,
Wait
And tonight I lose my shadow,
Tonight my soul.
Hard to even rate each other
When neither are even whole.

this is an endless hellscape
housed by demons mocking my torture
blood rains from my fingertips
clotting in the gaping mouths
of the spectators' bellow
my bones snap and mend at crooked angles
set by my captor
injecting formaldehyde to freeze my body
poisoned by exposure

I sit here haven't made any accomplishments today
But just getting out of bed
Getting ready for all the coming
Doubts that steer me just to where i am right now..
Alone again in my car in a random parking lot.
Feeling disgusted with myself
For doing it again
Disappointing myself for not following through what I promised yesturday wouldnt reoccure today..
Missing yet another day of work
And no one gets it
No one seems to Truly feel what this is
The pressure of myself not understanding is also wrecking
So i cry
Cry out to no one
For where's the cure
I Google to come up with Im alone.
I just want a friend..
I just want these feelings to fade
I just want to be myself again
As i just sit here alone In this parking lot lost with no cure..

A poet is no more than a person
A mother
A daughter
A lover  
Someone needing release
Or someone needing to recover


It’s the art they create when that ball of ink or stick of led dances on the canvas they so perfectly prepared.
And when the end result and their purpose become perfectly paired.