I think in waves. Waves of artificial emotions, deep desires,  run-of-the-mill repressed urges. I believe turmoil is the closest thing I have to joining someone in a receptive-giving relationship. Thunderstorms and tornados and every other body of the worst weather run within me. It pleads with the mind to over analyze any sort of life vest. Most of the time what I think is not what I hear or see or feel or touch or taste, these inner workings have a soul of its own. My chest is caving in, falling into its own pool of blood. A strong base will never compare to the weak beams inside each column.

cole 2015

Their love created a paradox
Like Schrondiger's cat of uncertainty
Great in theory, but not in practice

Unspoken words reverberates like the Doppler effect
A product of her own creation with undesirable outcome
****** if she do and ****** if she doesn't

Close the curtains
On this last act
Call home the trains
Bring me back

Time has eloped
With my dreams
I've learnt to cope
On meagre means

Preach the truth
To he who hears
Dig up the roots
Bury your cares

Hide my letters
In an open box
Untie my fetters
Use all the locks

Life is a paradox
Running to its death
Watching all the clocks
To be the last one on earth.

in the end
what’s foe
is friend

©2016janetaylor