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I don't want to sound silly,
but these poems are therapy.
Silly words written down
seems better than a human
made of flesh and blood.
I don't want to talk it out
and I don't want to explain why.
But these poems are better
than any therapist you can buy.

Crazy chaos going on in my mind,
I promise one day I will leave it behind.
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Wait
Check
Look;

When did relationships
Get defined
By a read receipt?
Will we
Now
Only measure intimacy
By a tweet?

What do we have left,
Why can’t we
Go back
To laughter
In a diner seat
Imagine that
I could write a salve,
compose an ointment of verbal herbs to heal,
even mere protect the already-torn-so-easy mental flesh,
just to disguise/hide the multi-colored bruising our
fickle mistress-in-common provides when you are down so far
another bruise joining the cast like a  floodplain subsuming one more feeding creek bed into the shapelessness of indistinguishability

imagine that

where atoms hide eternal between creation and destruction,
borrow brief the set exact you require to restore the taken years
from fathers/mothers/brothers/sisters,
children,
return that which went unused by the uninvited, unseemly human whim of war and lies for no gain

imagine that

the deep sinkhole of despair that ***** one in, years in the formation, appearing in instance, and worse does not drowns but leaves helpless, unable to climb out, and all our scratching digs us in deeper until we cannot be, seen or heard or just be

imagine that

a check comes in the mail, payable left open for filling-in,
in the amount of full restoration, with no additional fees of guilt needed for deposit and cashing/caching out: and you wake up
and the stony chest is breathing lungs free

imagine that

and I do; for I am the smoke of return and rest, sky inscribing,
knowing precise needs and the screams and the years unfair taken,
they are screened through the five perceptions, and the word weaver
set the loom for each peculiar requisition, no imagination needed

imagine that

you lament and anger demand verifiable proofs mathematical,
cursing the knights of false hopes with untethered regret

I do not imagine that; hear it and accept; my task, imagine that, making you imagine that, thus commencement of repair begins
when

we imagine that

for this how new healthy cells  are born

quiet-now,  go, imagine-that, now
if you recognize yourself within, it is no accident
I like the way your nose flairs when you laugh
And the way your lip quivers
I like how you stand
And how your words flow like the rivers
Your smile gives me butterflies
In your eyes I become lost
I want to be yours
I’ll keep my fingers crossed
Anx
.
Poor, poor, girl.
Frightened of her own shadow.
So I turned her around.
To face the Sun.

© Pagan Paul (2017)
.
 Oct 2017 Eric L Warner
Karoline
I’m 5’9”, loud and strong. 

I’ve got big hair, perfect brows and a straight back.

I radiate confidence, sexuality and metaphorical ***** as my curvy hourglass figure walks with purpose down the street.

My attitude says “There’s nothing I can not do.”

My eyes say “You wanna fight? I’m ready.”

To them, I’m a lioness. 

I protect all that is mine — except from myself. 

Behind the facade, I am small. 

Behind my words, I am afraid. 

Behind my sunglasses, my eyes are wet. 

And under my luxury lingerie, I am *****, just like my soul is when I’m writing.

I’m not who they think I am, are you?
 Aug 2017 Eric L Warner
Nathaniel
I'm seriously considering blowing my brains out,
Gray matter that used to hold my consciousness
now plastering the walls behind my carcass.
       Blood Art,
a new cultural norm for an over populated planet.
Euthanasia be dambed lets ****
the innocent,
the consumer,
the ******.
I could cure this planet of all it's problems
if only I had more ink in my pen
and more shells in my Shotgun
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