How can you do this to me?
Make me feel these things,
Build me up then break me.
You’ve given me art and habit,
Just to hand me the truth of your *******.
Take back the truth
I don’t want your defiled love.

Why do you scurry along life's unlit byways
Your head bowed, fists jammed in your pockets?
To avert calamity? To guarantee success?

Did you miss the turn-off?
In your busyness and inattention
Did you forget to read the signposts?

Lift your eyes from the ground
Slow your pace and stretch the kink from your neck
Do you know where you are?

Unfurl your empty grasp and consult your inner compass
You will find a map etched on the inside of your heart
Do you see the way ahead?

Yes, I thought so.

When we mimic nature,
using our skills,
It is in the nature of nature,
To bloom every where
it instill's.

How can a wound be identified--
When people only heed tears
but only with blood;
but only to tears
will the eyes bleed.

People can be ignorant--
For their hearts,
may no longer be filled with blood
but rather tears
circulating till they cause
tears deep within.

These tears each person has in life
forms a unique habit
which does not come in free size;
Some will drown in it
before anyone identifies
the wound.

old habits approach me like dealers
in the darkness. their faces hidden by shadow,
their intentions vivid as they whisper
wonderful promises of release,
of escape and of freedom.

i tell them no, push them away,
i attempt to stray towards the light.
they grab my wrist and spin me around,
holding tight as they look me in they eyes
and whisper "you're not going anywhere".

i try to hold out, but the fear is building
up inside, and i'm not sure if i am strong enough
to fight back, to win this constant battle.
i want to scream for help, i want to cry out
in desperation, but i am drowning.