i have tried to **** the love alive,
set a storm into my soul,
and drowned the flowers,
you planted in my lungs.
i knew that it needed water,
but too much would **** it,
and too much would **** the
love that was also too much for me to bear.
but baby, all did the water do,
was drown the flowers you planted,
and i never knew,
that it scatter of what was left,
and it made another.
a garden.
that was made from your flowers.

My thoughts are coalescing in a web of frustration,
I linger on the walls that are as blank as my memories
of a happier time. I write in tipp-ex, white washing the
words wrote in red pen that bled from my finger-tips.

Syllables verse so much when adhering with word and
reflections of who we  are. But mine are shallow puddles
of nothingness that are only filled with tears,
consolidating my hollowness crumbling within my tears.

Collect the words like breadcrumbs, they weren't fresh but slightly
past a sell by date of needed listening. I've died inside so many
times to be resurrected each morning devours me a little bit more,
the pills fall like raindrops in the puddle of my mind.

Creative enhanced blood cells move within
as I harvest kind words.
They enter the mind to explode
expanding, blooming,
tickling senses to write.

The moon is lit to enhance as
well the sun with its rays bright.
And when it rains moisture touches skin
to anoint cells with boost bringing forth words.

Words to enrich and inspire others
All in the day of a poet.
A poet, who flies in dreamscape fantasies.

StarBG © 2017