I've lost my composure,
I can't stand still.
I'm no composer,
but I play the drum fill,
of my heart beating too fast,
it's about to leap out.
I don't think I can last,
I feel I should shout,
at the top of my lungs,
but I lose my breathe.
The words reach my tongue,
as the thought is thought to death.

I saw you across the room and knew I must have you,
that quaint smile, something different, unexplainable beautiful.
You are all I want in this world, right now, in this moment.
Not life, not meaning, not money, not happiness.
I am single minded in this moment for your touch.

But alas, I do not know you.
I know nothing of your depth,
your complexities.
I know nothing about your pain,
or your joy,
or your biases,
or your ideas.

Many people feel their heart beat faster,
they feel their mind race,
there stomach all a flutter,
they think they're in love,
but they know nothing of love.
They know only of lust,
but is lust all that bad.
It may be a shallow thought, in the moment,
but we have to start somewhere.

The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold,
And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold;
And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea,
When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.

Like the leaves of the forest when summer is green,
That host with their banners at sunset were seen:
Like the leaves of the forest when autumn hath blown,
That host on the morrow lay withered and strown.

For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast,
And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed:
And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill,
And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever grew still!

And there lay the steed with his nostrils all wide,
But through it there rolled not the breath of his pride:
And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf,
And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf.

And there lay the rider distorted and pale,
With the dew on his brow and the rust on his mail;
And the tents were all silent, the banners alone,
The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown.

And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail,
And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal;
And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword,
Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord!

Restless unlike the owl
I need sleep unlike my neighbours
Eyes heavy unlike the air around me
Counting sheep like a shepherd
Sleepless similes get it right once in a while unlike left
My thoughts escape me unlike the words in my mouth.
Will they be quiet? It would be unlike them.

Sixteen years I have stood on this earth,
each day worse than the last.
Sixteen years I have walked this earth,
fists clenched, angry at the past.
Sixteen years I have ran from this earth,
hoping this hell would let me loose.
Sixteen years ends this day,
at the end of a noose.

I am lonely,
not because they ignore me,
but because I see no reason for them to care.

A rage pulsates through me at the thought of them,
but I do not hate them,
I hate myself.

I wish to cry,
but the tears do not come,
and the pressure builds up inside.

I scream quietly,
not so they don't hear my anguish,
but because I fear they won't listen.

I need help,
but have no one to turn too,
and so I will keep carrying this weight on my shoulders,
until it crushes me,
and I sink into the ground,
where I can be forgotten.