Poems
are to be quietly
silently whispered
over fires made
out in the chilly cold

Shared, with shifty eyes,
trembling fingers,
trembling voice,
trembling lips,
shaking hands

Reverently whispered
so that the wind
catches the words,
tosses them away
so no one may ever
misuse them again

Poems are to be shared
hiding away
from the world

The paint on my paintbrush
may have already dried,

but remember, I did not leave you,
even though I died.

It amazes me that God made mouths,
knowing that they'd talk this much;
                                   judge this much,
                                   hurt this much,
                                   curse this much,
But everybody rambles, everybody spits venom at their mirrored flesh,
people who are just like you, just like me, just like everyone.
We do it anyway.

It’s when you begin to tremble
tremors in your breathing
that I worry.

limited experience
and uumined knowledge
are the real driving forces

lets quiver together

flare them nostrils !

your heart requires more oxygen

and your body more blood