The things that I let bother me
Are things simple and petty
Like a girl
And how little they make sense to me

A pain I feel
For reasons unreal
My stomach aches
Every beat of my heart a quake
Why is it
I'm still awake

These feelings I know
I try not to let show
Except to paper
For it does not judge
Even in the sorrow in which I plunge

My mind unraveled
And the color of ink
Deeper into sorrow i sink

A journey
I go
Through a damp cave
Where no lights glow
As i near the end
My sanity will surely ascend
Sorrows no more
And life seems less a bore

This familiar road. Same bus
Every morning for
Seven years,
Yet never
Noticed

The oak tree
On that field
Until
Now.

A majestic crown of
Darkest green upon
Wood as solid as
Boats and homes.

Growing as slowly
As it wants.

It can.

I know not of the thing I seek
Does that make me weak?

Inspiration has left me
Like the stinger
From a frightened bee

Spicy
Tasty
Embrace me
And my poetry