The raindrips are dropping outside for a change,
some way I still feel them draining through my decrepit veins.

Thunderous applause for the storms that wage,
The wars that I've paid for with my strayful ways, day after day.

Come now,
Come play in the swaying waves forming aside my imminent lines,
The ones that play and play on,
Bouncing and rebounding around inside my mind(s).

Tip, typing away,
Fueled by the fires outside this time.
Each of these rampant keys seal away the pains that fray these frail heartstrings.

Filling the gutters with the utterances that speak the futile fightings,
Flying through the air,
With the nimbus lighting my way through the faintest of nighttime scenes,
Hoping these barely discernable dreams are the ones that will see me through the day.

Easing my restless heart with the chaos rains that thunder and pour,
They sway my mind to sleep.

Pray,
that it will all be over soon,
or perhaps,
even today.

In this new,
internal extrospection,
my out-of heart experience.

I realize who I've been,
what I've seen,
and how I've made myself bleed,
and others too...

I am Sorrowful.
I am thankful.
I am in pain.
I am hopeful.

Flooded by invisible tears and searing pain at the same time,
and even a hidden happiness,

I won't pretend to know.

I won't pretend to show just how I feel,
or just who I am.
Because I don't know.

All I know is,

I am.

My heart is the lo-fi beating,
My mind the static,
While my soul is the sea in which they swim.

Let's take advantage of this chaos peaceful state of mind,
And write a few little stories.

Forget the little pills bottles,
I'd rather love these words more than every day anyway.

But Zoloft does kind of roll off the tongue,
especially when I spit it out.

In this way I see these too,
The cohesive clumps of rabid thoughts,
Running, scampering, dancing of their own tune,
Careless of any other.

I try to decipher this life where it all makes sense,
To everyone but me.
To breathe in the same winds as the hints of a summer's bloom,
means to me,
not the same as you.

Brooding at the corner of my unkempt bed,
Imagining, the latter days where I may have just stepped aside,
To cry inside,
but in plain view.
To decipher these nights where nothing makes sense,
Makes sense,
To me,
and to you.

If asking these questions,
Leads to the edge's ends,
Then so be.

This way I see,
Will no longer breathe life,
Into the clouded seas,
Of a scene,
That serves only to see,
To my demise.

It may be wise, then,
To just say goodbye,
And breathe the sighs,
of our relief,
To once again walk the streets,
Without using our hands and knees.

Then maybe,
Once again,
In few years' time,
We could say hello,
In and of a new light,
Once we've seen,
Who You and I,
are truly meant to be.

~Robert van Lingen