bewildered that this text
this forgotten scribe
uplifts the feelings
i try so hard to bury inside

this scribbled stanza
relieves pressure and pain
slowly allowing me to
stop reliving the shame

words once read
in black and white
submerged in emotions
high, light, and bright

letting your painted face
in my memory vault fade
ebbing in the distance
while these words continue to invade

funny is that our feelings exist
so playful and irrational
yet followed zealously
feels greater than feels, professional

*s.q.

in this rigid space
neck deep in thundering fumes
that flame my veins
invade my insides
and in between the realms of existence
we see
past reflected in raindrops of light
tainted with eager
jets of hues
black and blue
again forefronted with the unbreakable
hold existing deep within

*s.q.

are we running in infinite circles?
is there no escape?
can we become greater from this experience?
or will this always be our shape?

i type away, emotionless, as there isn't much left
but wasn't the goal to numb oneself
protection from this worlds cold theft

we all find peace with things at our own pace
but what if we die before that day
there's nothing but a grim grin upon our face

i guess the point is
to move the **** on
before death comes near
giving you no room to mourn

and hope to find pleasures
in this temporary world
brush off the bad
close your eyes, feel the sunlight and twirl

*s.q.