The thousands of grey hair circle my hairline
matching the wrinkle lines on my aging face
They came with pain and hardships,
and not enough love to go around;

Suddenly, an expressive emoji of my younger face
came to surface, happy yet sad, yet no crack
but this all came about when time had relapse :
so many heart-break, so many mistakes,

Like humpty the wall breaker, or was it the dream crasher?
Time has treated me like a step child.

Hello Poetry likes me
Hello Poetry loves me

Sometimes Hello Poetry
likes me and loves me

Because Hello Poetry
isn't sure which is best

i went to
a store
that sold books
for very little money.
i browsed the aisles,
running my hands
across the spines
of the dusty books.
at the end
of an aisle
sat a book,
brightly colored
and eye catching.
i picked it up,
reading the title.
"this star
won't go out".
i had heard
of it before
but i never
would have thought
it would have such
an impact on my life.
this beautiful girl,
esther earl,
was diagnosed with
thyroid cancer
and died from it
when she was 16.
the book
was a collection
of her diary entries.
this beautiful dead girl
taught me more
than anybody
on this earth.
i learned
just how valuable
life truly is.
i learned
life is too short
to be unhappy.
there is always something
to smile about.
nothing,
whether it be
cancer,
depression,
anxiety,
heartbreak,
can decrease
the value
of a life.

Isn't it funny how your worst enemy is your own mind?

Your thoughts are under its control and your memories are its venom.  In a matter of seconds, it can pull you from a place of serenity down to the darkest pit, in which you scramble to get out of but can't. Your fingernails claw at the dirt and blood covered walls and your lungs fill up with your salty saline tears, and there's no way out. And it's amazing because just a few moments ago, you were walking amongst beautiful stars. But now you look up and see nothing but murky darkness, and your head hangs low and your body slumps over like it's slowly shutting down. And everywhere around you there are whispers, telling you this isn't you, that you're stronger than this, that you can beat it. But it's just so hard to find the energy when you're trapped in the unrelenting darkness of your own imagination. The soft whispers are nothing against the harsh blackness. Besides, what do whispers know. You can't trust something that can so easily be taken with the wind. And it's amazing because you could have sworn that a minute ago, you were out caressing clouds. But you can't remember what that feels like anymore because now all you can focus on is the soggy mud between your toes and the sharp rocks that jab into your back as you lean against the dirt wall and sink to the ground. There's no use screaming because the sound of your voice gets swallowed up by the emptiness you feel.
And then you lose track of time, simply because at this point, there's nothing left to lose. You sit there and allow your mind to absorb the last bit of life from you until you're nothing but an empty shell in a dark, distant hole.
And all of a sudden you open your eyes, and see the trees surrounding you and feel the soft grass beneath your body. You see the life and love around you, but something's changed. The world is GRAY. And just like that, the darkness in your mind takes over your whole world.

Isn't it funny how your most dangerous entity is your own mind?

What could I do, realizing my weak things?
Burning old photographs, erasing feelings....
Horror shapes my precious, God-given talent
Into bursts of madness and unforgiving lament.

I seek order in chaos, a cure for my illness,
But all I gain is the loss of friendship and willingness.
Entering nowhere, the land of the banned creatures,
A sea full of fragmented, thought-tortured sleepers.

Afraid of unkind, honest, barren charges,
I surrender to true dread, alienate, hide, miss.
Cut the cords and go deaf, go far away from temptation,
Tie myself to loneliness and melt into contemplation.

Answers will come, within my mind and endless worlds await,
Twisting words of treacherous friends remind my futile hate
I cannot love, I cannot trust, I cannot act as normal...
Perhaps burning memories deem forgiveness immor(t)al.

Thinking Clearly

I’m simply trying
To think clearly,
Times and destiny against me.

Not alone, it is we all.
A world of digits and addictions,
New temptations:
‘Lead me not into temptation…’.

Tiny hippocampus shrinking even more than ever,
It’s an effort,
I admit.
A part of words, a part of worlds
Inside a frame that gilds the lily,
Curls around reality
Like smoke from chimney.

Headlines chronically bad,
Chronicles of planetary sadness –
World of digits,
World on fire,
World that cultivates desire,
It is all the harder to think clearly
And sincerely:
Ergo, I
Am trying as a consequence,
To change the sequence
And think plainly, deeply,
Patently, indubitably
Clearly.

Thinking Clearly 6.18.2017
The Processes: Creative, Thinking, Meditative II: Pure Nakedness;
Arlene Corwin

Do not be afraid to write
poetry,
do not be afraid to let parts
of your soul take form
in word and verse
and do not be afraid to crush the mountains
of doubt from the ones you love
and show them that what you have
to say is worthwhile and permanent
and show them that you are not afraid
of your scars and your thoughts
and your mistakes
and do not be afraid of the pain
of reopening old wounds
and letting the gush splash across
the page in witty diatribes
that make you feel a little better
about the fact that you let a relationship
nearly **** you
and do not be afraid to line up all the painful
memories and conversations you'll never be able to have
and one by one
write them into poetry
and get them out of your soul
where they've been rotting
and turning you inside out.

My face into the wind,
With only a blind eye to see...

My senses are sharp,
yet I can no longer feel...

Numbness surrounds me,
so why do I still feel pain...

As my heart is cut deep,
so why don't I bleed...

My life is dullisional,
which helps me breath...