how far apart must our suffering be
before we can no longer tell; is that
kind of pain unworthy of you; is it
not educated enough or only meant
for plastic cups?

you can’t imagine living on the street;
you think they somehow like it there,
or maybe the street likes them and
makes it easy for them; didn’t they  
ask for it anyway?

if they can cross a river and not speak
the language then who can feel sorry;
they are tough enough; like a woman
having a baby; they’re made for it,
it’s as if it doesn’t count

is it so hard to respect someone born
to be poor; it has to be someone who
had it all; yes that is true suffering and
even worse is the thought of it; the view
from the terrace is terrifying

you know deep down inside they didn’t
write the blues for you; you’ve never
been that desperate, only that afraid;
that’s why you think about the streets;
they only walk on them

The garrulous little girl
Rambles her mouth at will
Very expressive in her speeches
Touching every heart that it reaches
She is already advanced in her knowledge
She should be a stellar student in college
Always talking about physics and chemistry
Along with advanced history

when you're out on the bridge
with neither end in sight, in the middle
or three-quarters way, barely there or
nearly-- never call the unsteady, the
hands that reach through the fog
or slap the waters through the
abutments,

you can love across wounds
with those who meet you, or
find their way, feeling the stones
gripping the railing, they've seen
you at the crossing and have come
to share the burden

but you keep calling, you keep
pacing, you've been waiting,
imbued with confusion, your
old self a ghost, all your worries
to the surface, belly up.

you've been inspired for all the wrong reasons.
You leave him alone.
I've been inspired for all the wrong reasons.
I leave him alone.

I'm stressed out
I'm tired
Physically
And emotionally

My body can't handle
The hell my mind produces
As it is weaker

Have you ever felt
Like you're so tired
That you could sleep for days,
Maybe even weeks,
And still, be exhausted?

My body is that
Of a young adult
But my mental state is that
Of a five-year-old

I can act like an adult
But it makes me
So, so tired

It takes up all of my energy
To act as an adult
For an hour
I don't understand

I feel like
I haven't ever slept
In my entire life
As my eyelids grow heavier and heavier

I could sleep standing
As my energy disappears
In front of my eyes

I need a Monster
Or coffee
Or both
Just to make it through the day
But it's so so bad for you
To run on caffeine

I just want to quit
Because my anxiety
Takes up to much energy
I want to be better
And not get so tired
Every time I try to function
At the age I am

I'm just so...

tired

I don't understand
And I feel like
I'm all...

alone

As I'm pulled under
Into a dream like sleep
Where I close my eyes
And pictures instantly play
Behind my eyelids

I can't control it
I'm trying
But I don't know

I'm just so tired
Physically
And emotionally
And I don't know
How to handle it

energy swirling in random spirals
chaos humming in the vast unseen
do you feel the spiritual revival
loosening the grip of the illusion machine
one more night then a moon so bright
a fruition of lessons the soul elected
allowing intuition to regain its light
truth as taught by the One resurrected

LS:   This place is desolate
Where darkness ***** at your pupils
And infuses your lungs with a cocktail
Of cold and despair
Amongst the mistletoe and bells ringing
You hear a quiet echo of
Isolation that has no shape
Unexplained, ever mysterious
Fearesome lack of a vital link
To hold your feet down on the plane
Familiar to countless faceless strangers
And familiar faces alike
Where willingly you could join
In a silly dance around the circle
Outlined many spiraling ages ago
And feel at ease and ONE

And to the sound of choral
I could fly up with crows
And see it all from
Unattainable
High
Up there in the milky clouds
But
Nature is so uniformally ordered and
Strange as it is no law contains
This spirit so eager to escape

WW: I hear the darkening silence echo
And drone in the northwood stillness.
The forest treetops lurching south
Into the memory of sunlight
Crowns bending unbroken,
Grasping unspoken,
To behold the waning daylight

While the spell of darkness cast deprives,
It opens up the craving soul

This is the naked truth,
This is the light
Oozing from graying monotone
Spilling from cracks between the pause,
Betwixt the shapeless lines of poetry’s refrain …

For life is not a work of art,
The colour a fleeting moment cannot last
And the paradise of going somewhere else
Still so far away

wildish

When did conversation become argumentation?
This form of abuse derived from self irritation,
just drives me in the opposing direction of where you'd like me to go,
there's many destinations that I haven't been shown,
cultivation leading me to venture on my own.
You push and shove for me to grow up already,
but agitation won't make it easier to speed through others lined up in front of me.
If you could just see how much I've been through,
most of it alone, if you could view just how far I've kept motivation,
then someday we might actually get close to were we've been heading this whole time.
Line after line and you have yet to add any up,
you haven't seen my determination, for you just blame it on luck.
Whim did consideration become mediation?
I've lived every waking moment, just for your approbation,
now, everything I've done is incorrect?
The treacherous miles I've overcome are now obliviation I'm your head,
every turn I make just ends up being another mistake.
Something along the lines of aggretion,
which in turn left us were we orginally started, or stopped.
You always try and take me where you want me though I've come so far already.
Sometimes the places you unexpectedly end up are where you're actually supposed to be.