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Homeless
enflamed  
in the alleyway
food
their main concern

Love
someone else’s
mystery
hunger’s infliction
— to burn

(Dreamsleep: February, 2025)
 Feb 6 Nylee
Traveler
The mind fines rest
at the end of each poem..
So go ahead
let your imagination roam.
Guide your storms
through creative seas…
Write your anxieties
set your fears free!
Now rest in awareness
as deep silence sets in.
Stay free of distortions
til’ it’s time to pen again…
Traveler Tim

Writing poems is indeed a form of meditation.
What has the future in store for me
Maybe it can give me a sneakpeek of that story
I am crumbling thinking about it
it's called worrying I know
Just a small peek, that's all I want
Or maybe more, the more I learn more.
 Feb 4 Nylee
Nemusa
My mind, ruminating,
thoughts eating themselves,
snaking longer, longer,
like that old Nokia phone,
remember?
The game we played—
winning meant losing space,
meant swallowing whole.

I can’t stop it.
No off switch.
No pause, no rewind.
Memory flickers, a broken reel,
an unreliable witness in my own courtroom.
Why did I disassociate?
To survive, to vanish?
Was I drunk on innocence,
or did I crave your love so much
I kept my mouth shut,
called my silence devotion?

You—
standing there in my shadow,
writing your story over mine,
turning my quiet into consent.
But I was always spinning,
always folding inward,
splintering.

Now I haunt the game,
chasing the tail of what I was,
swallowed by the loop,
still wondering
if I’ll ever find the center.
 Feb 4 Nylee
Traveler
At this very moment
The past no longer exist
What ever happens in the future
My will will not resist

It’s not that I can’t remember
It’s just easier to forget
And leave the ghost behind me
And the shadows of regret
………
Traveler 🧳 Tim
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