Ideas swirl in my mind
Forming windstorms
That pick up scattered thoughts and words
and grow into tornadoes
that whirl across my mind.

They distract from life
From what's real
and what matters.

But when I sit down to write
They all flee in terror
And my pen hovers above the page
filled only with scribbled out phrases
and my own insecurities.

The heeler doesn't spare an extra thought
of sheep he moves in regulated rows.
Tucked in grassy rivers flowing elsewhere,
an undulating form that moves as one.
His unmistaken glee is not the outcome
of order brought his Ovis Aries charge.
Unbridled joy he simply garners from
the blinded execution of his job.
The starlings' stunning geometric forms,
ten thousand minds in cheerful concert fly.
If sheep would cast their blue ewe eyes skyward,
would they know there is no maestro in control?
The sheep, en masse, have only ever known
their movement just consigns to greener grass.
They have no understanding of what fate
befalls the weaker members of the flock.
                                                        rc

I feel so blank that i couldn't keep my head up,
because my anxiety starts to build up,
I drank to lift my spirits up,
but it wasn't enough for three cups,

I'm not broken but it feels right,
maybe just sad from last night,
I can't share what's inside,
can't even smile for a little awhile,

i dont feel a thing and i cant lift a finger

look me in my hollow eyes and tell me, how can i be considered alive?

in the midst of apathy i am nothing more than a dead man,

and in its wake i am merely a ghost

In my life there are three things:
A feeling of emptiness,
a hollow laugh and blank face,
Hiding behind a mask

I wonder day by day
nothing changing
the world around me is unimportant.
In my life there are three things:

My own emotions elude me
they go about their days
hiding in the back of my brain
a feeling of emptiness

Upon my face there sits
a person I don't know
Because of all I ever am is
a hollow laugh and blank face

Day by day, night by night
nobody ever bothers to look
but I never bother to tell, I'm
hiding behind a mask

I have a fever dream

Blank skin
Blank skin, only a single layer thin
damply wrinkles and pocked puckers ;
I’m a delicate blister waterbed mattress
No rest when I set my head

The pain is a receiver in this dream

I feel I’ve a full body wound
The surface skim is a single reading of pain
Any contact pulls the pain to that site
A sudden breeze alone
would do the trick

The dream expresses vulnerability

One nick
One puncture on the opaque membrane
And my innards would flood out
I slip perilously on the tile floor
My printless feet wipe from under me and /

Woken up
burning fever
but go back to sleep
In urgency I must..

Form porousness
Found layers
Cultivate hairs
Bead natural oils
Reclaim my fingerprints
And get a grip
All this before I fully awake
I don’t want to suffer this state in the real world

I lost so many pieces of myself through loving others. Now that I need some for myself, I have nothing left to give. Poetry is my solace and I try to write what I feel. A blank page stares back at me and I could not have described it any better. I crumble the page, holding onto it tightly. Sincerely hoping someone can translate all the empty spaces.

Type type type
Delete delete delete
Why all of a sudden is writing now a feat?
“Just write what comes to mind!”
But my mind’s wiped clean
Like the blank white page on my laptop screen
Nothing flows, nothing spills
Tauntingly the cursor blinks
I’m certain I’ve forgotten how to think
Nothing circulates, nothing pours
Hauntingly my fingers tap
I’m certain I’m about ready for a nap
Nothing runs, nothing spews
Dauntingly I press some keys
I’m certain I’ll never be at ease
I type type type
I’m finally overcoming my feat!
But I read it back, one word at a time
And now we’re back to
Delete delete delete.