If age is measured
in allegories,
then,
I am truly
an old soul.

and the clouds go on,
gently tip-toeing up, up,
while we stand, watching

and the light loved you in broken moments of eternity

why do you stand there,
with so majestic a stance?
so quizzical an eye?
so secretive a mouth?
so tender of heart?
yet,
yet so bruised of soul?

Can I capture your words and put them in a jar?
And save them for the days when you’ll be afar?

Your eyes never wilted,
but,
i could hear
the flowers
in your voice

She sat there alone with her thoughts and tears
Constantly reminded of recent fears
She knew that there was nothing in the end
Not a soul on the path and no lasting friend
So full of emotion full of feelings she'd had
And some of them were really quite bad
She felt way too sensitive and then way too numb
Everything that existed reduced to silent hums
Color drained from world, like water tipped from a glass
The life drained from those who mattered, alas
If only it drained from her as well
In another world she might as well dwell
Her existence here didn't matter much
But she pondered that thought and had feelings as such
Peaceful sleep with calming dreams
Changed, reversed to panicked screams
Everything was melting, everything but she
Yet all she wanted was life not to be
So hard and strange, confusing to survive
Every time she faded, she'd be revived
Oh, but if only she could simply vanish
Not feel anything, and in anyway not tarnish
The history of people and the thoughts they contain
But to fade slowly from memories and be not refrained
Because that would help her and others she thought
But that's not what happened and not what is,
And that definitely, will not.

Overwhelmed by the surplus
of thought and emotion. I wish to end
such feelings. Yet each time I do come near
stopping -
passing into the bliss
of sleep - they attack harder.
Driving away all strands
of sanity. Consuming me,
thoroughly: the good and bad,
till I am left
as nothing
but a shadow
of my body.
Alas shadows, are creatures
of the day, of the sun; come
nightfall my shadowy existence ceases, bringing peace
to me, with sweet silent sleep.
Each day, brand new, is one more
spent waiting
for two turns of th’clock.
That will, have time stop.

There’s nothing left to say,
no emotion to betray,
no moment left to spare,
nobody who would care.

You left me to be all alone,
With nowhere to go but home.
But if home was with you,
Then now what shall I do?

Mindless, thoughtless, pointless wishes,
Childish, vain, futile kisses.
It doesn’t matter anymore, none of it.
I’m still disappearing bit by bit.

We’ll walk along this stretch,
We’ll walk it, till the end,
Then we’ll walk back again.

Hold my hand,
And I’ll hold yours,
It’ll be us two,

Forever.

People come and people go,
But of all the people that have done so.
3 have made quite a strange turn,
They came back to be the lanterns.
Lanterns that would help her walk through,
Dark, musty, corridors that only a few,
Have ever walked across on their own,
Without a single plea or moan.
But she was just another lost soul,
She still needed her lanterns to guide her, to the ultimate goal.

The world was dissolving into a meaningless mess,
It was draining her strength, as she tried to stay on top.
But the more she tried, the more she lost in this game of chess.
And she wished, would time please stop?
She needed to breathe,
There was a lump in her throat, and it wouldn’t leave.
The quicksand stopped, only her heart continued to fall.
She struggled, fighting a losing battle with herself,
There was no where to turn, no lights to follow.
Only the quicksand, and her,
No words spoken, no thoughts read,
Secrets to remain with a soul never to be caught again.

If life was a mountain, I’m losing my footing.
If life was the sun, it’s becoming night.
If life was the wind, the leaves aren’t stirring.
If life was the earth, I’m sinking in quicksand.
If life was air, I’m short of breath.

I entered a room: a chamber so dark,
And chanced upon a golden ark.
I saw, but naught was there to be seen,
For the lone candle, with its lone beam.
I walked and sauntered and toddled and paced,
Toward that lone candle, but not, in haste.
I drew near and witnessed a sight, miraculous,
Behold a thousand others in my plight.

That I chanced upon this candle,
In this place of complete scandal.
I thank this beacon, this light that saved,
For a soul, a path it paved.

She ran,
Ran as far as she could,  
As fast as she could,
from reality.
Her breath came in short quick gasps.
She couldn’t stop though.
She had to disappear to another land.
Because the souls of this one, could not understand.
As she sat on a stump with autumn leaves falling,
She thought she heard them calling and calling.
Every moment replayed itself, like it did everyday.
She thought back to sweet May.
It drained her of the energy she had left,
Stole her life, a terrible theft.
Her eyes shut for the night,
And she hoped, with great might,
That the world may end, come the light.

The never-ending blue ceiling seemed
Calm, blowing a cold wind
Over my bare feet as I sat on the bench, wasting
Time on idle talk. A soft sound
Made itself heard to me. I knew
The source of this melody.
I picked up the gentle, furry creature. So small
So innocent. I held her, gazed
Into the brilliant blue orbs in her large head.
So disproportionate – yet – so breath-taking.
She flopped off my hand and stumbled
Towards the tattered basket. I followed.
In that tattered basket lay
5 more strays. A chorus of purrs radiating
From the small things.
One by one they approached
Me: a new object in their life.
Their squeals ceased, their heads buried
In my knitted sweater: my lap a new basket.
Mews melted into purrs.
They would grow into strong cats, but for now
A cuddle and a nap. Already
thinking about tomorrow.

I wish tomorrow had never come,
I let the sight sink
In. Eyes gripped by her mangled ****** corpse.
My vision blurred, hot salty tears trickled
Onto my lips. Guts
Spilled over the coarse concrete. Matted, sticky
Crimson fur clung to her fragile, dead body.
Black tire tracks trailing away into the dark.
Crimson to black. The end of a melody, a song
Not sung for long.