When I am gone will these words still remain?
Pure thought without a voice or merriment;
What if my life was all for this refrain?

An angel sifted neurons in my brain,
To seek for aught of which I should repent;
When I am gone will these words still remain?

My demons tunnelled through me like a train,
Cajoling me to do their ill portent;
What if my life was all for this refrain?

My haunted past still lingered like the rain
And soaked me in a wave of malcontent;
When I am gone will these words still remain?

My soul was but a solitary grain,
That bloomed to grow until it's time was spent;
What if my life was all for this refrain?

Beyond my years, when long my bones have lain
Past living years of those who may lament,
When I am gone will these words still remain?
What if my life was all for this refrain?

I'm in love

with the air
flowing through my fingers
never to grab
never to let go

the feeling of freedom
accompanies me as my hand is outstretched
going 50 down I40
i never want this to end

I'm in love

with the way the music flows
from the radio
bass vibrating my bones
sound waves caress my face
they make me smile

like you used to.

I have no choice ,but                                                                                                 To admit willingly and greatly that                                                                         My pains and my sufferings are masters that                                                        Wake me up                                                                                                                 By day and by night ...                                                                                              I have learnt lessons from my pains and from sufferings                                       Simply because I am playing with this life                                                              Around us uncaring ...                                                                                               I feel painfully ,but                                                                                                     I am totally handcuffed ...                                                                                        I am surrounded with a lot of ugly pains and with                                              A lot of rude sufferings that crack my realm                                                       Anytime,anywhere,and everywhere ..............                                                      ___________________­__

I wonder if my thoughts are blocked from over thinking.
Maybe my urge to write is scarcely needed,
If I stopped writing would anyone notice?
Shall I jot my thoughts in a journal safely hiding my moments?
Self expression through words means no expression at all,
When the words no longer flow and keen fingertips lock.