Maybe my poems
have fallen on deaf ears
to a point
where
they lost
their
voice

Along the same roads where memories reside,
I saw you again, and something inside died.
As if my soul has never moved, still tethered to the past,
And my heart, open wide, waits steadfast,
To cradle you again, to mend what’s torn,
To find the quiet solace where love was once born.

Sometimes wondering
where I’m going
Missing people
who believed in me

Feeling empty, guilty, angry
Loneliness and more within me

Losing sight of hope
But a spark stays here.

Eyes full of stars,
But not the good kind.
These ones shine with scorching heat.
Eyes full of space,
But not the good kind.
These ones threaten vastness sweep.
I see the moon.
I see the Earth.
In these eyes I see the birth
Of every star,
On every plane,
And see that it is all the same.
Now I’m lost
Within those eyes,
And so I find
The end of time.
The lights, they hurt
I try to rest
And at the end of space infests-
Those eyes…
Mine…

I wake with a kink in my neck,
in my eye; a dirt speck.
Calling for all hands on deck; but we’re sinking.
I wish to return to the caves,
before we were on these rough waves
don’t know how we’ll dig these graves;
but I’m thinking.

But if I was taken by the wind
atleast then I’d understand.
But when the lady of the sea grinned
I came crawling hand over hand.
But if I was taken by the breeze
then I’d give up the horizon and trees
the sand and the land with great ease.

The ship of lost souls starts it’s sail at dawn
watch how it moves along,
in the currents so strong; isn’t she sturdy?
It’s stern turns so incredibly tight
even on the roughest night
but when held to the light; her deck’s *****.

But if I was taken by the wind
atleast then I’d go willingly.
Along with those who have sinned
or just those who chose to be free.
But if I was taken by the breeze
then I’d give up the flowers and bees,
leave it all behind, pay no mind
and even say please.

We practice serenity
with each day that we receive.
No search for amenity
just live off of what we believe.
No shortness of want or need,
look how easily we breathe.

That’s where the old snake stopped me
from attempting to grab the fruit.
There was endless crop to see
there was infinite loot.
We’re living in paradise lost.
We’re living in paradise lost,
and I don’t ever want to be found.

No much more to gain,
we shower within the rain.
Maybe I could stop this train
maybe you could stop the pain.
We have no short of grain
we have no hate or bane.
Rocky Mountains or flat plain,
delusional but still sane.

That’s where the old snake stopped me,
and told me that I need not pick.
The fruit was freely dropping,
raining down so strong and quick.
We’re living in paradise lost,
with nothing bringing us down.
We’re living in paradise lost,
and I don’t ever want to be found.

What I connect with you
Is covered in pain
In black mud and dirt
All over

I slip and I fall
Over it again
If we play the same
Old familiar game

And we're both not that bad
No bad people indeed
But the hurt that's inside
Makes us lose our mind

It's my frustration speaking
Or shall I rather say weeping?
For a part of me knows
I don't want to let go.

Close to giving up on us
Closer than ever before
Maybe that's the only way
To be free and sane again

I am not ready to suffer
Until one day we will die
I need more than that
From this one and only life

Hoping you'll understand
My perspective someday
And that I won't regret
Whatever I'm gonna say

Trust me, all the dark mud
On our lips, in our hearts
Sealed up all the love left
Which was there at the start

Now when I am looking up
I am feeling empty
Looking at the stars  
So bright, but I was beaten by envy

I know deep inside
A part of me hates me
I hate me for the fact
That I failed to connect

That I failed to understand
My problem at it's core so that
I would know better and not regret
The decision I made based on that

I need now to accept the truth
But it's so painful
Having you
Beneath me

That's why my mind is looking
For a way -
to keep the distance
And to stay away

Even though it's not less painful that way.
What else should I say?
Have I done enough? Really?
Or am I simply sick of being the sick one after all?
How about what did go wrong in your childhood and home?
Is the trigger problem really only me?
Or is it both of us and we are both trying to be free...

No answer to my feelings, thoughts and states remains
Because the more I try the more I fail
To see and understand.
My mind is full of images
I can't pretend.
I need to know.
What I want after all.
******, life makes you wanna have a second chance. All over again. Till the end.
Feeling not much better than before.

But I know my dilemma is that all.

I like to stare at the blinds until faces start appearing in the fabric. Smiles, noses, eyes-
they all jump out and morph into one. When they start mouthing things to me, that’s when I tend to look away. Sometimes, I look for faces in the shadows of objects lying around the house.
There’s a particularly amusing silhouette of what could well be queen Victoria that
pokes out behind the curtain ruffles. I go
looking for her sometimes on purpose, because I know she’ll be there and it’s
something to be certain of.

If I could inject a feeling into my body every day, it would be that of certainty.
I fear I am an addict to the art of prediction and delusion,
so much so that I have developed an intolerance to uncertainty.
My therapist would like that I’m using that,
that’s one of her favourite lines.
I live my whole life in a recurring conspiracy. I firmly believe things are going to happen and am genuinely shocked when
they inevitably don’t.

But there is something so tantalising about allowing myself to drink up an illusion of certainty.
I like the control and
I love the power it convinces me of.