Sitting in a quiet place.
Listening to the ideas blossom in our minds.
The noise never ending.
When our thoughts and ideas dissipate.
They're eventually forgotten.
They were never spoken.
Billions of unsaid words floating around us.
Residual in the mind or not.
Theses words, they travel somewhere.
Whether these concepts were significant or the split second reminder of unwashed dishes.
These thoughts fly someplace calm.
That place, that realm is truly quiet.

I wake up nightly just to ***
I start before I'm there
It might seem strange
But as I age
I really do not care

I wake up to the alarm clock
My back's sore and I ****
My hips are screaming meanies
My chest hurts near my heart

I stumble to the bathroom
Like I did two times last night
My knees are cracking loudly
My head don't feel quite right

My vision is all blurry
My right arm is all numb
Three fingers are all tingly
I've a funny feeling in my ***

My shoulders ache like crazy
I sound like rice crispies with cold milk
I stumble and I bumble
I move as smooth as silk

All of this together
Means I'm alive for one more day
Getting old is ******
What more is there to say?

the stifled sound rumbling on the tip of my tongue eager to come out.
It roars with happiness and excitement from what it seems.
But behind that exotic laugh is a soul. The laugh hides the soul keeping it hidden from outsiders.
The laugh keeps a delightful smile on someones face. Everyone wants to feel happy..even if it is for a split second.
That laugh takes your mind away from the dreadful thoughts of suicide or the painful outlook of what is called you life.
The laugh takes away the pain as if were an antidepressant.
But what happens when the laugh stops...that dreadful pain resumes to what is reality as it consumes your identity as a whole.

I could here it coming down the tracks as it got closer. Every inch it moved towards to me I could hear it get louder. I could feel the ground beneath me shake. Until suddenly the train was right before my eyes but soon it had passed. Just like my pain. I can feel it slowly reaching out to me. But it passed like the train. -GO

There's woods outside of town aways
that I will not go near
There's tales of ghosts and monsters
And I don't like the things I hear

There's screeching noises unlike those
Any animal can make
Even in the daylight
Those woods just make me shake

I've heard tales of people who
Let their dogs out after dark
They come back, all scared and skittered
And they never ever bark

There's something in those woods I say
Strong magic is around
There's tales of children disappearing
Never to be found

Three years ago I walked on past
And I heard a noise....real close
I swore something was watching me
It may have been a ghost

On Halloween, the woods light up
With magic from within
No one dares to venture there
They'll not be seen again

Some nights when the moon is full
The noises fill the air
Of screeching, howling wild beasts
Of things covered in hair

I've only seen one bird around
The entrance to the wood
It's a single, lonely raven
And to me that isn't good

Raccoons, and skunks and squirrels
I never see them near this place
It's inhabited by demons
It's never known god's grace

The stories aren't the sort that
Make you want to see
What is in the woods that howls
I won't go in ...not me

The woods have always been there
And the stories have been too
I know the sounds scare me to death
And I'm sure, they'd scare you too

Don't venture near the woods at night
Don't go there in the day
Just leave them to their darkness
It's just best to stay away

I don't know how to
Feel.
Some days all the confusion
Of the world muddles
My senses and I am unable
To tell right from wrong
And other days the perfection
Of a blooming flower
Gives me hope that i will one day
Evolve into a better human.
But for now
I am stuck here listening
To the endless banter of the
Screams in the wind.
Who would cease when I
Put my world to an end.

Sleepless nights filled with voices,
memories, and fearful noises.
Hug your pillow and trust your choices.
Breath the poisonous air of muggy summer nights.

There are sounds
I truly hate:
One hand clapping,
Derisive laughing,
Babies crying,
The rasp of dying.
For us, these sounds
Raise sympathy,
For the hard of hearing,
A symphony.

Lucia beat Jim to the door
The sink turns on
With a rusted wail
From within a steel throat
She knocks, mouths off
Out in the kitchen
Wood slaps wood
Food fills a bowl
While Emerald pours
Cheerios,
feeling hungry.

Hungry on a bed on a moonlit night
A touch too soon before June for coyotes
Let them wail
Savor the silence of stars in a room
hiding from violence. Alfalfa grows
in rows beneath their own shade.
Let them speak.
Their are voices are drawn into dry wind.
Dissipated in desert before I catch them.
What's the word?
Have you heard?
Walking sluggishly through straw at mid-day.
Where's the door?
So little pay.

A tomb is a vacuum. Should I choose to die.
Chain-smoking my lungs out would suffice.
Should I choose between ears or eyes
I'd be blind and in tune with what you say.