Sometimes I get startled by my own thoughts,
they creep through the walls of my mind
haunting like a ghost, physical like a corpse.
And I only notice them when it is already too late.

When they have already been formed,
they already exist, weight.
I’ll throw them like stones to a pond
and they sink, sink sink
until it fills fills fills…

richard the kind heart
walks on common soil travells
to his own full mind

Staying is a form of haunting.

I don't know
whether it's the mind or the heart
that refused to let go,
incessant, untouched.

My trail steered towards
their station,
a cerulean sky,
an ekphrastic response

where the jigsaw-interlock
of sand grains mocked
the subtle imperfections
inherent in any life.

So you joined the dance anyway.

When did I start taking things for granted?
When did just barely doing anything
become like perfectionism to me?

When did I start taking people for granted?
When did hardly putting any efforts
become all the efforts that would define me?

It all started
when I started living in the world
my mind made for me,
rather than the real world
I should live in.

It’s not over, I’ve got paper and ink
I’m not done with what I think
A thought for the moment, here in time
A word for the page, all in rhyme

Drifting, my mind picks a spot
Telling it all, everything I’ve got
Wouldn’t try and change it
Didn’t try to rearrange it

These things just happen to me
Once a thought, my pen makes me see
Twisting and turning, inside my mind
Words and feelings only I can find

9/12/25

out I burned
down I collapsed
in I nirvanad
off I set.

Waves of welter aligned to rewind
losing the weight of mind.
Swear I won’t fall again
But this isn’t feel like falling
Gravity can't forget
to pull me back to ground again.

The tune was arising until it’s fading.
The image is grounded until it’s leaned.
The voyager was granted until it’s strayed.
The eyes were flicked until it’s shut.

The hands were clutched until it’s fumbled.
The sight was stretching until it’s blurring.
The breath was pacing until it’s muddled.
The heart was harboring until it’s shivered.

The butterfly was fluttering until it’s tethered.
Sinking, surging, swirling,
There I was, though no one noticed.
Not even my ashes afloat.

Breeze nestled on wings of cradle
Shade blurred in a beam of surge
Petals flicked off stumble
Thorns unfolded to prattle

Fallen angles tethered
sinful to light the
darkened feather
As it fell to fly

The eye altering alters all
William Blake, The Mental Traveller

in this fall
it's the sky of the eye that's falling
in the aquarium of time
fish swim in the shape of our memory
my reflection dissolves in unfolded thoughts,
in the maze of forgotten hours
a mythical hope starves the multiplicity of dreams
light colludes with its absence but
it's mind time, the burning hours let go of self-deception
there are twists and turns in our soberness
love is the art of inside seeing
how the vulnerability of truth gets expelled
by the mouth of time

A hive lives in my mind
Shows up in strange thoughts I find
A swarm of opinions from out there
It forms a crowd in my head

It’s loud and persistent
Terribly rude and insistent
Forces me to open my ears
Makes me do what it shares

It drowns out my voice
Fills my noggin with noise
I can’t outtalk its screams
I’m stuck listening it seems

Shame follows my every step
As it recites words of regret
This hive I can’t escape
It’s become my unsafe space