This is not a poem of woe
I'm in the zone... the writers flow
Where I'll stop I just don't know
I can't have a cup o joe
It doesn't seem to want to slow
I'm up all night and can't let go!

Oh! Dear God. .. I ask you. PLEASE!
I'm so tired my brain might seize!
I just need a moment's peace
Somewhere where my mind is freed
My motor starts to choke and wheeze
I need some help... get antifreeze
Rid me of this poeteeze...

... I just want my vitamin Z's!!!

You're still gone, I must be dreaming.
Haven't seen your face in years.
I miss you like the sun does the moon, come back, I'm begging.
Oh how deep you've caused me to fall, so many fears.
Brother of mine I'll be waiting for your arrival.

I might look sad
With tears in my eyes
But I am not ashamed
I am really used to cry

As the night falls upon me
I am trying to confess
But the pain deep within
Doesn’t hurt me less

My dreams might have all fail
And it feels like hope has left me too
But the fighter deep inside
Isn’t giving up any time soon

Whichever route I take
Whatever path I choose
I am looking just ahead
There is nothing more to lose

Sweet gentle daughter of dreaming blue eyes
Reflecting visions from some distant sphere;
Untainted by nightmares of icy fear,
Nor saddened yet by fate's mocking disguise.
Unopened book of fickle tomorrow,
Not certain of how future may unfold,
With hours of lead or hours of molten gold;
Unenlightened yet by unknown sorrow.
Sands rush through the hourglass of wasted years,
While breaking our young hearts with shattered dreams.
The clock of life wrings disappointed tears,
Unhampered by our plans and clever schemes.
Beware grim reaper swinging ***** blade
Who mocks thee as childhood days slowly fade.

**~Hilda~

So maybe I am not completely asexual
Maybe I can slowly repair my past,
And learn to open my heart... One day

On that shore I sat melancholy and sad.
Thinking about what the wave had taken away,
About what it might bring and what I had.

Sudden emotion rushed like wind.
Overhead that moon lit lantern,
Translating my message to send.

Oh, what a shame to try
To bring you here by my side.
In meaning, over this ocean perhaps you could fly.

To my lonely abiding shore
and sing songs of magic together
a fantasy sheathed in lore.

But now the ink runs low
and the winds of my heart move slow
what I have left had been taken by that ocean wave flow.

If I could send
a slice of my soul etched
with this feather pen,

Perhaps I could meet
this angel I seek.
Siting in reality alone, cold and bleak.