****** summer
sun has his way with the hills
that look drained, panting.

I lay in bed, drained
I hear the thunder
preparing us all
for the rain.

I look at my wall,
at the Jellyfish that hang.
My heart flutters and I smile
as I remember who is always by my side.

i am drained
so drained
so very drained
i cannot seem to find
solace
within a single thing
i am so drained
just let me lay
don't speak
your words have done
enough already

Ice pack pillows...

So many and so close like skin to my skull.

Pain so vicious that my bodies aches from fibromyalgia are numb.

Any scent is like an attack, pounding my head...

I have no strength to fight back.

My stomachs tired too...

It refuses to hold any food.

Light is like lasers set to explode.

And moving...

Moving causes silent tears for fear of adding sound...

I'm in a world of torture, only one with severe migraines knows.

With prescription relief comes a side effects pain...

Thought through carefully it's worth the trade.

One morning or day gone...

Maybe even a few...

Before comeplete comfort sits a dull draining day...

After each tormenting migraine I find a sweet appreciation for my every day physical pains.

Fill my head with the brisk, night air.
So I can finally think.
Fill my lungs with the moons soft, light rays.
Let it drown me.
Fill my bones with the dry feel of leaves.
So it can replace the ache.
Fill my heart with this earthy content sound.
So the calm can take.
Fill me up with this autumn evening.
Let it consume me whole.
Let it, for just one night, do all the feeling.
Let this autumn night take control,

It is sadness
when the falling rain
is just broken shower head
and your filth and stain
goes down the drain
and it leaves you speechless

It seems that like a bubbles
the echoes of life roam around
why do I remain untouched?
Truth is painfully obvious
only beautiful flowers
are picked up to die

Diluted feelings of what once was
Detached from the reality of the usual
Drained from wishes of possibilities
Truth is painfully obvious
Every God forsaken day I die
a little more inside.

The part I hate the most about this feeling
is that it doesn't look pretty in paint
nor does it sound lovely in lyrics
it doesn't rectify the emptiness
when I pour myself into other people's cup
I fill them up to forget what I am full of
things I do not love
colors that do not transfer well onto paper
words that don't make sense
nothing about this comes together
in ways that can expand and commence
this feeling is not a pattern
this suffering is not art
you can't trace a deadly storm that you did not acknowledge
from the start

I crave to talk to you about it
However what exactly is 'it'
A whirlwind of issues and trouble, interlaced within my thoughts tinging in red

I wish I could crawl in the comfort of your Autumn coloured arms and nestle my fragile body into your portrait masterpiece.

I wish you'd try to understand,
That this pain wasn't planned. I don't choose to feel a wave instead of ripples, that salty water steals my air because of the force it holds.

I long to explain why I feel drained, why simple tasks are no longer natural and it hurts to walk on glass.

I'm weary, I hear myself say
My eyes closing as I walk on my way
The day just beginning when all I wish it to do is go away
Weary of the day ahead, what's gone and what's yet to come
This weariness draining my heart through my noisy head

The chill of the breeze my weary heart wanting to cease
And then the loving sun shinning her rays upon me, come closer I beg of thee
Take me to another place
Do not disappear near that cloud I say
wash away my weariness today