Tin man, on the eve of tin,
your apology rings hollow.

I think that you
were only trying to

crack a window,
find a space to crawl back in,

attempt to
erase me some more.

Meanwhile, the police
are off investigating

crimes that happen in
real time. They like

to catch their perps
red-handed. Even with you

cast in the limelight,
confirming that what you did

to me was real,
it was my own nightmare.

I know, we fall into
that grey area.

In a garden of blooms
you walk freely,

inhaling and dreaming
of touching

those yet untouched
pink and yellow buds.

My leaves are yellow and orange
The surroundings are shades of brown and sorrow
the branches have already fallen
and just like that
the tree was hollow

The night is cloudy and the stars don't shine,
The raindrops on the window are illuminated by the cold street light.
Perhaps I would be able to hear the roaring wind
but it is silenced by the tick tock of the clock on the wall.

Maybe, maybe I will write again,
Maybe, maybe I will learn to play a happy tune,
One day I'll forget elegies
And stop making these melacholy effigies

I don't really like rhyming now,
They sound too happy and are sometimes cheap.
I rather write to my poems and say, "Thou
art my biggest mystery, you're too shallow. You're too deep."

So in conclusion,
I don't know why I'm writing.
All I know in this confusion
Is that the night is cloudy and the stars don't shine,
The raindrops on the window are illuminated by the cold street light.

The clock is ticking. Tick. Tock.
The people are hollow,
The people are stuffed
leaning together
Headpiece filled with straw.

You just have that effect on me
where you get into every inch,
fill every cell,
until you are perfectly everywhere

Until all I say is you,
until your taste,
your cool tongue against mine,
is all I can breathe

Until I can't see,
blinded by the spark in your blue eyes,
making everything turn into your color

Until my words of you
are just pouring out of my fingers,
trying to grasp as I write you down

And you even make me wake up
with your name ringing in my head,
as if I've been calling for you all night

And I know our memories back and forth,
I've visited them so often that they are tattooed across my mind,
carved into my chest,
so even my heart knows when to skip that beat

But it just gets hollow,
filling myself up with old memories,
so torn and tormented,
so far away from you

Like I'm living out of old air,
to thin to give any real release
but to lightheaded to stop

you look in the mirror
and are weary
of the person you have become
knowing that they too, are weary of her
that they too, wish for the you of the past
because the you of the future
is nothing but hollowness
a graveyard of joy
a tomb of hope
a resting place for the light that will not return
you bid it goodbye
and it was happy to leave

Esther L. Krenzin

Is this any kind of living ...?
Trapped everywhere but no shackles to be visible.
What am I bound to ?
I am breathing but still I feel like something is suffocating me .
Something inside wants to feel happy but sadness overshadow everything around.
Having everything still feeling I'm losing grasp .
Living every moment but I feel I'm dying every second.
Is this heart pumping blood or going to burst .
Tears going to roll down my eyes but it's not there .
Do I want to cry or is this heart bleeding tears .. ??
How silly ..Have anyone ever heard hearts bleed tears .
Something is bleeding .. life is bleeding to death.

Filling in the blanks.
Throw away worn out pages from the journal of my past.
Forgetting names, relationships that didn't last.
No class, sensible sass on the *** of my jeans.
Playing with words when I want to be mean.
Don't want to be needy.
Forgotten peace treaty with the demons eating my psyche.
I'm ugly, you're boring, we're all like vampires feeding on each other.
Undeniable hate, but I still always say "We should love one another."
Denial undercover, smother the problems I'm not yet equipped to recover from with a sly wit.
Another temporary fix to cover up the shiit that somehow replaced the mud and the blood in my veins.
I'm lonely and strange and beginning to prefer it this way.
Not well behaved, I don't feel like pretending to be today.
That's okay, I'll try again tomorrow.
Indian giver, time's always borrowed.
Mostly hollow but I'm trying harder every day to gain the patience it takes to fill in the blanks.

So empty
At the hole just below my ribs
Like the air ****** from my lungs
Like a hard punch in the gut

Like a cold, empty, air-tight cellar
With only a small sad puddle
Collected by an incessant dripping
From a ceiling that's too dark to see

It's like a vacuum in my chest
Each time I breathe in
It threatens to cave in
And crush me
So I take shallow breaths
A few molecules at a time
And just hope that the day doesn't come
When I will have to face
The consequence
Of that Emptiness

How deep can be the word empty  ?
I am feeling a hole inside my heart , a hollow space .
Something was there , but not anymore .
I don't even know how do I feel .
How should I feel
Please make me feel anything .
Why I only feel shattered , broken
Forever broken ....Why did you do this ...