Suddenly, there's reality, harsh,painful reality. At that moment you
realize how stupid and desperate you are. And then you intend to
forget him/her , to do normal again. And you are really trying that, really.
Until the dreams and the hope tap on your shoulder.

Together we follow,
whoever walks in front.
Minding our own footsteps,
But never looking up.
Shuffling without purpose,
around an endless circular track.
They never rest or stop,
just to wonder Why?
But that doesn't change a thing,
Because we follow just the same.

To all our poets far and near
Support the newer poets here
Your support will help them write their stuff
But in your criticism dont be to gruff
Positive criticism is gladly read
By them who really feel the need
To improve the way they write
And thus contribute more to this great site

.Filling my life with emptiness
...I used to be productive
But now productivity
Is like a jar of chutney
sitting in the cupboard
for years.

All I want to do,
is just sit in my room
and observe
observe it
shrouding my room
see the dust floating in the air
Like a cold, moldy coffin
And find a hole to jump  inside
and hide
my mind
colours
colours
colours
col ours
call ours
call hours
c all hours
see all hours
see the things I could not find in a minute
See a purpose in small things takes hours
I don't need a purpose.

My drug addict cousin
didn't show up to our family dinner tonight.
My uncle drove around the block in circles,
I think hoping that she'd gotten lost. But unfortunately
she'd gotten too far lost for the easy resolution
of a trip around the block.
Her name is Hannah. It's a palindrome,
I explained to my mom. It reads the same
front to back as back to front. There's darkness
on either end, and some people call the middle part
light. My uncle is like
the stereotypical cool uncle, always
telling jokes, making puns, but
he didn't even smile tonight, and instead of "knock knock"
it  was "well I guess I see who's there, and they punched
me in the ******* face." It would be better described
as a faint red glow, that middle part. Life. A candle
burning on both ends, palindromically pulsing
from 'H's to 'N's. And my uncle,
left dealing with the puddle of wax.