Explore my labyrinthian corridors,
From the walls to the hallways, to the unkempt floors.

'Tis in my mind I finally realize,
I have not the time to explore each and every door,

Precious, singular thoughts,
Expectedly drowning,
but in due course,
We are lost at sea in an ocean devoid,

emptied by the mindless wars.

When I get drunk,
I become one of you,
I become but a human.
I become one of you,
Just a normal one to be.

Say long to the anxiety,
I become one of you...
Normal...
Normalcy soon feels like a disease far away from what normal really seems.
I'm not really me.

Be one of me, Heathens.
Then you might see me be the creten that seems so far out of the current scene.

So, ha,
When you drink,
Who are you?
Because when I do,
I may not be me,
But I sure am the best version of whom I see,

I both hate the feeling,
And love who I see,
I am this distorted scream in the mirror to which I owe my very being.
To whom do I address this to? Certainly not you.
Just the future me,
The sobre boy who cannot really be,
A sane human being.

Returned to worsened thoughts,
Caught in the spiderwebs of restlessness.
Inchworm caught in the trap.
Presuming its imminent demise.

Toothless dogs of emotional wars fought on the daily,
Screaming in my broken ears,
about how little this all means.

Heat-soaked heart drowning in my anxiety's waste products,
just looking for some direction,
someone to mention my name,
in just a positive way.
perhaps I'm deaf,
so please speak up.

I can't even hear,
my own cries of fear,
so please speak up.
I want to see,
that is what I mean,
is more than nothing.
Please?

I do suppose,
That little pill,
Has done its deal,
in sealing me away,

or at least,
the part of me I wish I'd never see.

The lack of write,
represents my lack of fight,

bittersweet.

i love nothing more but to speak,
these little lines.
these broken skies, however,
never suited me well.
This isn't goodbye,
just,
see you later,

when there's something,
something to fight.

Silent fireplace,
    cold stone hearth alludes to its purpose,
sitting eerily still.
       Teasing its fleeting warmth.

     The silent rumble of nothingness penetrates the peaceful silence,
Silence to itself,
   With this little lamp to my side,
providing just the right kind of light,
        to see me through this write.

Shutting my mind's eyes and breathing the endless ink blots of my thoughts.
     Thoughtless sighs squeeze,
  past my anxieties,
    and carry to me,
a tantalizing hors d'oeuvre of peace.

~Robert van Lingen

I am fragile:

Tissue-Paper skin,
Silken heartstrings.
Yet I still can breathe.
This tenuous breeze.

Glass bones,
in my glass home.
One stone,
is all it takes to breach,
My glass throne.

I am Fragile:
Please, shout at me,
while I can barely see,
what "me," really means.

Please, tell me I'm wrong,
So I can guess why,
I'm going to cry,
A broken song.

I am the fragile song who beats in amorphous tune,
to no one else's beat.
Who's piano strings are plucked by someone else's keys.
And who's instructions are in the other room.
Locked with someone else's key.

I am Fragile:
Easily broken or damaged.
Flimsy or Insubstantial.
Delicate and vulnerable.

I am the frail,
Who lives on the sheer strength of will.