Often,
Words elude expression
And on pages blank,
No ink splashes emotion.

Often,
Words refuse to materialize.
And when parched lips part,
No secrets elicit nourishment
To the bleeding heart.

Often,
Colours play hide and seek.
And inside bland lives,
Never do hearts find a reason to beat and beat and beat.

But often,
Expression survives without the crutches of words.
And even the blankness of pages
Become evidence for the empty hollowness gnawing inside.

But often, blurred words escape the rhizome of parched lips
As they quiver and quiver in hopelessness and speak a tongue of their own.

But often,
Bland lives fail to seek colours and remain bland
Their world turns into a living coffin
While the dead caravan of numerous bones breathlessly goes on and on and on.

You're a fool
I will step out
of your zone
and claim
my own
for my galaxy
was too colourful
for such
black holes
Good
Bye

Tap, tap, tap,
Go the keys,
Tap, tap, tap,
Furiously nailing the letters to the page,
Like nails to wood,
One at a time.
Tap, tap, tap,
Words about heartbreak and love,
His eyes and her eyes,
The way his coat smells,
The way flowers grow,
The way music touches your soul.
Tap, tap, tap,
Spinning sugar-sweet rhymes about “womanly” things,
While my womanly thoughts lie burning in the deep,
Dark,
Cavities of my chest.
Tap, tap, tap,
Deep down,
Beneath a waterfall of Earl Grey,
Beneath the flutter of a feminine heart,
My womanly words crackle like a fire suppressed.
Tap, tap, tap
I can hear them rumble like thunder,
So close to being spoke,
Being written,
Being typed,
Tap, tap, tap,
Tap, tap, tap,
The fire and the thunder stay in my chest,
Rolling and seething,
Tap, tap, tap,
I continue to write,
Tap, tap, tap,
Someone else’s words.

My heart won't stop beating
Beause of not meant to be's
As much as it aches
There's still much to see

Perhaps, it is not over yet
No, not a happy ending
But a few pages left,
A story-end still pending

Silly sullen sentences
strut in my brain
boiling baffling batches
of cluttered dust-bunnies
creating a babel tower of
lost love lullabies
slowly
decaying, dying, drifting
Wet your quill
with the ink of now
write new lulls
swaying your pendulum
between your now's
and what's yet to come

You know that thing
that lingers
in your mind
after you sleep
that burdens you
with heavy eye lids
and dark loud heart beats
that bulk of
"I don't know what"
in your throat..

Say it
for with words,
you have nothing to lose

My syllables skip
                      pages

of repetition....

A life less interesting
         but nerveless, reading on..

Broken.
Ripped apart.
Empty.
A void that needs to be filled.
Feeling nothing,
but the constant disappointment that rises up with every word written,
with every thought shattered like glass
Left on the floor
For someone else to walk over
For someone Looking for something,
but never finding
and never knowing why,
always needing,
only ever understanding
That nothing feels right
And every idea is ephemeral
Chopped up into tiny pieces
Then gone in  Seconds
Drifting away with every thought
Flying high like lost birds
And they never seem to find their way home now
The words are never together
Covered with scribbles that look like waves
Yet they don't flow like a river
They crash and smash into each other as they were a stormy sea
They Jump around the page
And when spoken aloud
All the words clash
Falling to the ground like droplets of rain
And it's over again
A page is filled with nothing but scribbles
And ideas that never fully form
Half done before it's given up and ripped out.
A pen is picked up
A page is turned
and everything starts again.