I'm at a loss for words.
Whether what I say is important.

Or some idle.
Threat.

To punish.

No one.
But.
Myself.

i used to spend my days
pouring myself
into the cups of others

only to find
that when it was time
for myself to take a sip

all that was left
in my cup
was the remainder of a girl
who gave

too much

in soft hours when your heart’s
awake dreaming
and you feel a soft whisper
gently tracing
your skin, your spine to your soul
that’s me loving
you

seems there may be some connection
some call it a trigger.


some things leave us cold and wondering

If life were
   understood
   completely
   we'd have nothing
   more to live for  
   being stultified
   and empty
   all wonder
   would have died

   no more teaching
   nor writing
   there's no need
   for reading or inventing
   superfluous is every thinking

   the morphing
   of  the intellect
   creativity in waning
   the self in annihilating
   and the dehumanising
   of every human undertaking