There is lava at the core,
It beats hot thick.Red.
bubbling calmly at the centre,
Sometimes it rises slowly, daring to erupt,
but it can never be,
the mighty eruption could not tame,
its a danger to the villagers clutching at its side.
A cool shudder forces back down.
The bubbles boil away.
It will not erupt today.

Words are what we have
In my mumbled jumbled mixed up mouth.
They are the radiance of me, my outward display
A verb is not doing as I am
The description burns and curls at the edges
The prose is my verse rushing through my loaded mind
The summary of me, can you see?
Can you see through me to the words I write.
Like a script I write my outward display,
But mainly with words, I don't know what to say.

I'm lighting a candle without a match.
i have no light.
i am no match.

darkness.

There's a bomb, time ticks on pushing me to the ground it's never found, what eases the soul body and mind. I can't find it. The realisation within its not there I'm not free. I long to be and to see, to wish and want to let go. What we hold is not dear. It's not there it's not me. What can I be? The control is gone, what do you want?