I feel the hands within my heart

Pushing
Pushing
Outward

Longing for something to start

Waiting
Waiting
Onward

A dream flown on must leave a hole

Empty
Empty
Hungry

A hole let sit will collect dust

Falling
Falling…
Downward

Terror abides

The words spill forth

Chaos surrounds

Spilling forth

Beauty

Do you ever pause and ask,
        Is this a dream?

When I first asked, I laughed.
Then again I asked, and laughed again.

I asked, laughed, and peered a little closer.
I asked, peered, and dropped a wry smile.
I asked, and stared closely.

I realized I don’t even know what it means to look closely.
I don’t even know what it means to look.

I move through “life” as if a dream.
So focused on such a small portion of reality.
A little encapsulated cloud.
A box. (Sometimes rigid, other times wiggly)

I asked, is this a dream?
I do not know.
But continuing to ask has changed something.
I feel it in my stomach.

I don t know what I will find if I keep asking.
I don’t now know what that feeling is.

Now whenever I ask
I fear I may get an answer.

I often wonder why people post on this site
        Myself included

I’m definitely reaching out
        Trying to make bonds
                
Where my energy seeps out
        Tired and withered

                My daily life gives no release

Of this form
                          
And so I really start to think
If I do form bonds

Who the **** are these people?
        Why are they different from those in my life?
                Do I really want to know them?
                        Should anyone see this side of me?

Maybe its Toxic.
And this should not be read.

Sickness all around
        Dark tired bags
                Live under glazed over eyes

So we pump chemicals
To combat chemicals
        We arm both sides and don’t know how the war is fought

You can read this
and I can read that

hard to know the truth
        when informed by salesmen

All I know
Is this is big business
        And money is made

My body is growing stronger with care and effort        
        Or so I think

Sometimes I imagine I’ve grown so
        My nose grows high into the air
                And I try to help others, with an air…

But lets get real
Look into the mirror

I’m growing my own little buddies
        That live comfortably, under my glazed over eyes…

Why does my soul long like this
What is the ever lasting longing

Typing on my computer with no goal
        No known direction I’m going

I just need to let some pressure out
         This way seems the best
                      Better than others…

I despise that I long to be longed
But nevertheless
        I long
               For so long

Spelling it out
         In silly tabbed lines

Makes problems seem pathetic.

From deep within a Dream I've woken

From the Whispers she has Spoken


Her fingertips like Lucid shock

My Mind, before, it was like Rock


Her gentle soul,
It has awoken

Deep inside, My Passion broken


With gentle Care and perfect pace

She smooths my wrinkles into place


The wisdom of the Tree and Star

Flows from Whispers

Through my Heart