What a hearts thinks?

What it really feels?

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Folder: Dark stuff

broken fragments float in a mind long devoid of understanding

exponential potential in any of the answers

suspended in a ether of nothingness in something

time shifts the perspective the angles always change

like the answers they only fit for the moment

and swiftly move out of focus when youre not looking

like treading popping bubbles

its impossible to go anywhere but down

and up is a whole lot of work there isnt time for

life is marked by soon forgotten glimmers of realisation

hung on a hook leaving the logic and going by feel

groaping the dark for fragments

waiting in the midst of it.

Your expert fingers gently
    strum and pluck at my strings                
Making every inch of me sing.

My body thrums
    With each staccato beat
And goosebumps ***** my skin as we race towards the crescendo.

The music peaks
    And beautifully tuned notes entwine
In heart-stopping harmony.

Your bass blends
    With my soprano
In a perfect balance of tone and pitch.

In the stillness that follows
    The music fades
Into a duet of breathy sighs.

And then we :||

Out of body, out of touch
If I feel at all, then I feel too much
This poem is as shallow as my grave

But I'm still digging

If I want a God then I'll misbehave
If I want to be sad then I'll entertain
Just because I'm found
doesn't mean I'm around
Just because I'm growing up
Doesn't mean I can't be down

I'm sorry, mom and dad,
but if I want to be happy then I'll have to be sad
I'll write until my fingers bleed
Until my words are the blood that the readers need