It's easy to hear the loneliness in her voice
As she speaks she has no one to talk about, there's just no choice

She talks about the good old days
Filled with love and compassion all was just a faze

Loneliness is when you cry
There's no one there to make her smile or dry her eyes

No one to help with the demons inside her head
No one to subside the discomfort of pain from deep inside

The demons are here to prey on the misguided brain
She continues to hide her pain

Only to give into the loneliness of despair
Her loneliness has only become a reality because nobody cares

Trying to fade away loneliness has taken its toll
On her soul

Sound of loneliness is silent
She doesn't hear the birds singing with great talent

She doesn't feel the sun shining
People pass her by as if she doesn't exist so she starts declining

She wishes her heart could love again highly unlikely loneliness has become her only way of life
She remains unable to feel due to the coldness in her heart stuck by a knife

Through perfect imperfections
Are we able to find evolution.
The flaws we face on a everyday basis
Seen through our own eyes as love.
A ballast on which we see each other.
Without fear, without hesitation.
I see you, not just what you display
But the eternal way that you see yourself.
Finding my reflection through yours.
Ingesting you with each and every stare.
Born again in perspective.
Yours and yours alone.
Open hearted in an open end expression through perfect imperfection.
Only then can both of our worlds change.
Only then can we truly find ourselves.
The reflection of each others eyes

In a world where a hold is placed on perspective, and accomplishment is marked by material things.
Never lose your inner child.
In a world where everyone grows up and forgets the things that make them happiest, never lose your inner child.
In a world where momentarily replaces promise and devotion.
Don't forget that you hold the crayons of your soul.
You can color inside or outside the lines.
In a world where everything that truly makes you smile is frowned upon.
Don't ever lose yourself.
Just be you

So close but yet so far
Now I wonder where you are

Gone from sight, you fade into the night
what seemed right has taken flight

With all my might, I resist and fight
chasing my demons into the night

The glowing dawn, now seems gone
must dig down deep to carry on

The path is dark the road is long
what filled my heart I guess was wrong

Its hard to swallow, torso is hollow
lump in my throat, no lifeboat

Not knowing is slowing my capacity for growing

Not loving is shoving my heart and soul into a big dark hole

My mind is unclear, clouded with fear
Abandonment and loss is the cause of my delusional mirage

Home alone, yet lost in a sea
of emotion that overwhelms me

It's obvious, isn't it?
When two similar planets pass by
each other
and get caught in
each other's
gravity.
It's obvious what must happen here.
The words not said
scream loud enough to
bridge the hundreds of miles,
and we still don't
say them.
Not yet.
It's obvious we haven't been here before.
Into uncharted waters,
we move so
very
slowly,
careful not to create waves
before we meet in the center,
careful not to misstep,
so that we can
do things right
for once.
It's obvious.

.
How I wish I could lay my head
down gently on your thighs,
to make you moan and sigh aloud
and slowly close your eyes.

How I wish I could use my tongue
and give you more than rhyme,
to bring a flush up to your cheek,
of feelings beyond space and time.

How I wish that I could speak
in words of feathered certainty
and so entice your curious mind
to lay down with me for eternity.
.
.
© Pagan Paul (2017)

Seven times seven to the seventh power
Will tell you how much I love you this hour.
If you tripled the stars and a few more could borrow
It would give an idea how I'll love you tomorro  
                                            

Three times nothing is nothing
Why do you keep going back
Haven't you had enough nothing
To last til forever and back.
                          

The mouse in the maze is very weary.
It’s way too much concerted effort
Just to earn a grain of corn.
The route is always changing
And someone turns off and on the lights.
The music plays the same song, over
The humming of the ventilators
And the shutter bangs incessantly.

The mouse is tired of stupid games.
No one cares which way it runs,
Or how much corn drops into the bowl.
The smell of *** in the far back corner
Makes the air unpleasant to inhale.
The will to win another piece of corn
Battles with the need to find
The exit that is at the other end.

Notes have to be written down
Measurements and timings
Fill the logbooks of the staff,
As bored and weary as the mouse.
Protocols must still be followed
Finally the time clock in the hall
Clicks over to the magic hour
And mouse and men can all go home.
            ljm