To feel like you want to write, but the words elude you.
The words start from the time you wake, but what are they saying.
Do I write of the good times and memories in my heart.
Can I write of the hurt and pain of so much time lost.
Baring of the words that deal with how I am damaged goods.
Or opening that door giving yourself permission to love once more.

To feel like you want to write, but the words elude you.
As you go through your daily day, bring your book write each word.
It will all come to you each sentences, emotion, smells or feelings.
They will give you the power of hope and strength.
Don't let those things that give you turmoil hold your words.
Don't let them constrict your throat
to where you have no voice, no heart, no words..........

CMH

It happened all at once.
You remained the same reasons of brokenness and love.
And I couldnt change it.
I'd rather have days of both misery and bliss than having days without you.
I think of you oftentimes like a madness killer.
Figuring out what kind of death you will die in my memories.
But everytime I did, I slowly dying.
Those memories were the only thing I owned.
And I dont want a world without you.

Does you think of me as well? I know you wont.
But I love you in every heartbeat and my mind could think.

Sleep to dream.
Escape from reality.

You take my hand and hold it close.
You whisper in to my ear
Words so sweet.

I feel my eyes starting to tear.

Take me away
For you are the only one.
Who can see me for who I am.

Caress me lightly.
And tell me why you love me.

Remind me why you and I
Were meant to be.

Dream of nothingness.
Illusions taking over me.

Sleep just may be
The last thing I really need.

For words are my fuel
An elixir all on its own.

It builds me up
Or tears me down.

In the end,
it will all be worth learning.


For every word
Has potential
Just like we all do.

I don't think you know
I don't think you understand
I don't think you care

You see it all around:

on school playgrounds,
at high school dances,
thirty-something bars,
in nursing home doors.

The certainly accidental
cohesion of two souls
and bodies colliding
and releasing
so much unknown energy
that terror and happiness
explode simultaneously
in the dumbstruck hearts
of the afflicted.

Lives are altered
for better, for worse,
forever.

The emotional apocalypse
we call love.

Turn up the silence and block out the sun,
Alone in my room, a bottle and a gun.
It goes click twice, I'll see another day,
Tears start to fall, can't carry on this way.