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All these places,
All these faces,
and my eyes still try to find the one that belongs to you.

All these mazes,
you filled my life with acid,
But I still try to get back to you.
The grinding floors
and pounding doors
cannot keep me anymore.

I have retired from this
apartment named ironically "Bliss."
You, my fair neighbors,
all shall be missed.
A whisper left,
Upon my lips,
No one was meant,
To hear.

Shaking through
My Fingertips,
The numbness turned,
To fear.

And now I have,
Been ******* to,
A knot I cant undo.

For every time,
I seek release,
My headspace fills,

With you.
Slowly sensing an altered reality
Or maybe its a parallel universe
Scrathing our earth
Hypnotizing and brainwashing our youth
Its working
Where falling under the invisible trap
Forced to think that we are suppose to live this way
Forced to think that depression and suicide is the way to go
Forced to think that there is no way out
They are WRONG
Right now, it's raining in a silent place
where the sun peaks through the cracks
of the hazy forest.
A place where your breath appears
as a roar of a lion and your sneeze
a tornado.
At dawn, your heart echoes the sigh
of the forest and the lament of the
babbling brook.
The brook babbles, yet doesn't say a thing.
Soon it will succumb to the hush
of the lush and shady forest
where the sun bleeds
its first hello and last goodbye.
 Mar 2014 Christopher Zaghi
Himal
The love will flow like a river.
Unquestioned  halted by obstacles.
Let tears carry your joy and your pain.
Let the sweat expell it's jealousy.

One way or another,
It will flow either way.
Even the sun-clouds this morning cannot manage such skirts.
Nor the woman in the ambulance
Whose red heart blooms through her coat so astoundingly ----

A gift, a love gift
Utterly unasked for
By a sky

Palely and flamily
Igniting its carbon monoxides, by eyes
Dulled to a halt under bowlers.

O my God, what am I
That these late mouths should cry open
In a forest of frost, in a dawn of cornflowers.
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