Sometimes, the words don’t come.

The consistent stream of consciousness, ceases.

I am left with nothing to say.

There is a beauty in the broken mind.

Like an abandoned building taken by nature.

It is not that my mind does not work.

It is that it works too fast,

And I am left behind,

Scrabbling in the dust,

Desperately seeking a connection,

In the discarded fragments of thought.

I am fighting a losing battle.

I fear the white flag will soon arise.

And signal the end.

Press me against you
Like flowers in a book

On my windowsill,
of that indigo night
you took me,
and I haven't
been the same since.

Something about you
makes me want to
be a better man.
I've grown wings,
so I take to the sky.

These neverending
thoughts unravel me
limb by limb
by chaos confusion
alone and loss

I keep erasing the steps
I'd already taken
my mind numb
and taken over

I walk this path
jumping from one
emotion-stepping stone to another
existing as a lost cause

The further I play
this game called time
the missing piece
my life's embedded
into me only grows deeper

Slowly we grew old
Slowly we forget the things we wanted
the relationships we valued
our manners also faded
and the dreams we planned to pursue.

Then suddenly "SLOW" doesn't seem so slow anymore.