the silence is like a double edged sword.
in its presence, with discipline
many thoughts and feelings can be slain.
but don't naively believe
that what's trying to be killed
can't and won't
fight back

finding shards of your love
in the isolation
of our separation

the more expressed
the more i lose
trying to connect
but don't know what to do

emotional landscape
feelings rampage and wander
reality drips away

moments pieced together with
fatigued numbness,
trying to get back to
supreme oneness

consciousness fluctuating
highs and lows
mind debates between
yes and no's

Sorrow broke in
plunged me into insanity
have to escape this nightmare
back to reality

A poem isn't effort.

Emotions aren't squeezed out,
but bleed out
into their own being.

The poet
a mere catalyst
for their expression,
letting go of continuous
repression.

Bleeding constructively.

Time stands still during the most insufferable moments...

Hell last an eternity,
while heaven falls short of a second.

Wanting nothing more than
to change the polarity.
Turn this agony
into eternal heavenly.

a tired mind
needs no sheets
it blankets itself
with drowsiness

she said
he taught me to write in different dimensions
free myself into expression

in the writing it was clear
her words painted not pictures
but emotions.

her brush
rhythmical experience
her canvas
their soul