Have you ever
felt cooped up?
in a narrow space
that you call
your most comfortable bedroom

It could be
your most comfortable place
or the place
where you feel most tormented

A place to hide
from what you fear
but also the place
that imprisons you

the narrow box,
sometimes
it can be an echo of laughter
when other people are with you
but it can also
be a silent scream when you're alone

a bed
that only accompanies you
when you sleep
a pillow
that catches your tears

nobody hears you
because they all died

so who do you complain to
in your room
when you are sued
for mute?

Her mind was far enough away
From the world so that its imagination,
Insouciance, infatuation, and wonder were still
Thriving, and the placid palace invited strangers-
Partly because they believed if the World came back
It would take only their bodies;
Partly because the mind seemed
A haven of safety and life,
And the mind’s beautifully ordained imagination,
With its irrational ideas and absolute safety,
Were very inviting, extraordinary, comforting;
And also partly (according to the girl)
Because of the compelling,
Insatiable need to hide within oneself.

The most beautiful poem is written on a shroud,
As if the stars closed their eyelids at seeing the gods die,
But still-gauzy foundlings like cities of dusted sunlight,
Bound so long between the pillars of Athens and Rome,
Disconsolate remnants in after-golds and winding sheets of stone.

The most beautiful poem speaks only to death,
So it may know something of our loss, our bereftness,
And like the turnkey of afternoon to evening
Under the warm-felt pressure of our reminiscing hands,
We too shall pass like long-limbed sunset along the barren grass,
Like so many solitary walks bundled up in Autumn mists,
And eyes filled with someone once there and absences to come.

I’m waiting in line, wasting my time
for things that won’t come, though they are mine.
Pretend that I’m fine, should I draw a line?
Don’t wish to run, but I think I’m just done.

Feelings I can’t shake, they keep me awake,
the list has increased, how much more can I take?
With so much at stake, I try not to break,
I miss the sun, but I think I’m just done.

With tired eyes
I’ll still see it through.
Exasperated sighs
in breaths I drew.
I broke the ties,
but I’ve got some glue.
Searching the skies
and looking for you.

I’m waiting so long, maybe I’m wrong
I can’t walk away; my legs aren’t that strong.
Alone in a throng, I still try to prolong,
but it never begun, and I think I’m just done.

The flowing tears
should extinguish the flame,
but it’s been years
and it still burns the same.
Doe eyes sees the fears
and treats it like a game,
then it all disappears
am I to blame?

I’ll wait forever, I’m not too clever,
passing me by, but never say never.
I can not severe this painful endeavour,
I’m always the one but I think I’m just done.

my eyes open,
the dark night fills my vision,
the moon stares at me
with a smirk on her face
to see if i will make
any form of movement.
i do not.

dead flowers surround me,
they smell of rotten flesh,
but it calms me
and allows me
to forget the
sadness
in my beating heart.

the moon laughs at me
because i am alone
in these wilted flowers,
but i enjoy being alone
and i am always alone
and will be alone
forever,
just like the moon

In solitude
I can focus
on doing introspective-philosophy
to calmly increase self-awareness
and patiently improve my emotions and thoughts
until I am joyful and happy
with the content of my mind
and the process of my mind.