Only that the sand never sits still
and I will never get to count the grains.

There's no one here except for me and all I do is watch the ***** scuttle out to the sea and the tide march on in because there's nothing else to do,

there used to be,
I used to have company
but
now I'm alone.

I can't say for how long
I've been a castaway
and
I'm guessing it's been
a long time since
anyone asked me,

I used to have company
but
now I'm alone.

I started counting coconuts
but only the ones on the trees
and then I forgot which tree came next,
they all look the same to me,
so I'm back to the ***** and the sea
and the tide waits for no man
especially if that man is me

I used to have company
but
I can't remember when.

Written by
John Edward Smallshaw  61/Here and now

Perhaps we are just a series of electrical short circuits
caught in our frames
giving them names like speech and movement.

And with these thought I give myself torment

or maybe we are these thoughts in a bubble
or
planets we see from the Hubble.

this also gives me trouble.

We could be what is marked on the label
fragile and unable to open the contents,
more torments for me,

or maybe we are what we see
and that's just
frightening.

I tried to find the words
some structure and form
but they rush in hush
meandering corridors
awaiting a sacrifice

No one ever knows here
so we arouse in robotic form
souls in distaste harbouring
meandering never wondering
as curiosity jumps off windows

I tried to find my heart
some love, fortune and laughter
but they rush in hush
pacing the lost destinies
awaiting a revision

the tectonic plates
in me
are shifting
     as our continents
approach collide
my ocean is
getting closer
to the mountains
on your landscape
  tallest grasses blowing
         in wild demon dance,
                shaking their
          heads as heated
storm approaches
oven-baked air crackling
    with its own
         electric currents
Nothing can stop it
it's a magnetic force
              one to be
                   reckoned with
               surrendered to
as dust foams
like ocean froth
around our heads
clinging to us in tiny
starlit fragments
and soon will come
        the slick dive into
             wordless waters,
                    just skin on skin
        slippery mouth muscles
like entwined snakes
flick-flicking, shiny
in eye-lit cherry moons
Take my hand.
Just pull me in.
Enfold me,
          without talking
watch as my aura
rushes into you,
first a delicate whisk
             of cool light
to slake the thirst
of coal-licked caverns
then sparks
and bubbling oxidation
turning into liquid brushfire
Hold your palm
to my chest,
as if to keep
    my heart steady,
        my glowing flare of halo
  pressed into your
clavicle, taking in
the embryonic beats
soothing my torrid ache,
infusing minerals
in vitamin-laced libation
It is time to simply bask
in the new
crispness of radical
shake off
           the silt and salt
and rise up
into the spheres
      of memory
      of soulspeak
of collapsed time zones
budded breath
spiraling up
in curls,
       diaphanous
dark mist
ascending
                 into
           light

Soon the streets will be gilded,
Ever so lovely,
when the trees decide , it’s time.
Their leaves have not yet scattered, but waiting to shed old life.
Looking forward to the change ,
This insights change in me too.

Someone who is depressed or has a "mental disorder", likely won't reach out because of the enormous feeling of helplessness/ hopelessness. Reaching out not only seems pointless, but it also announces to the world that there is something wrong with you; and with depression/drug use, that is the root. Feeling like there is something so wrong that it cannot be fixed.. so why announce it, why not just resolve it. Everyone's a judge these days, which honesty perpetuates that helplessness; why would anyone reach out just to be jestered and obtain the label you fear the most, mentally ill. I dont find myself ill, maybe in the heart. My mind, more like awake to the sickness of the world. Even in my own personal relationships, what should be is not, and what is there should not be. Tension, isolation, judgment, disrespect.. the world is full of it yet not many practice the virtues necessary to have a world they claim to want.. there is no peace, and with so much egotism, i dont see a peaceful place to even lay my head. Turmoil will always be present when people expect more than what they give. My sadness comes from these truths, and knowing the only comfort are in lies and denial. Maybe i am ill. Maybe my reality is distorted from my extreme desire for connections in life i will never find. Maybe this void in me will never be filled and i should just accept it like everyone else seems to be doing. With things and stuff, ranks and class, gossip and judgments, with superficial carrots just to distract me long enough for age to creep in and end it for me..

Hey sadness,
When will you let me move on?
Always by my side
I let my happiness slide.

Autumn leaves
I never seen one before
The withering leaves
Just fall,fall.

I want to feel fire
Overwhelm inside my body
Burn it up, turn it up
Give me a new startup.

A new start
Even if I want, I cannot
But forever we are young
To my dreams and hopes, keep hanging in.