I've always been
in love with words
never did I find the
what, when, or how
but I know that I do
And loving you is
always like that
the feelings are
pervading through
my veins
loving you is always
like falling for words
without any
what, when, or how
I just do.
"Pain"

Once it strikes,
You'll never be the same.
Intensity spikes,
Don't know who's to blame.
Pain.
Is it your fault,
Or is it mine?
If it's a wound, this is the salt,
Mixed with tears, for the brine.
Pain.
A Distressing feeling,
& a sign of life.
Blessings after the healing,
Mind & heart constantly at strife..
Pain.
An invisible stain,
On your soul.
There's always something to gain,
No matter what they stole.
Pain.
Something you live with forever,
Tucked away into hiding.
Feel Alone, like a letter,
Forcing that smile gets tiring,
Pain.
A symptom of an underlying condition,
You'll get good, never better.
Purple Heart from the missions,
Sunken ship, full of treasure.
Pain.
Triggered by the nervous system,
your whole mindset starts to change.
Want revenge, so you grab the pistol,
like one bullet can ease your..
Pain.
IG: @braxton.poetry
All these negative thoughts have a lasting effect,

can the same be said for positives? Is it any wonder

the self-help industry is booming, the power of

positive thinking, the creation of new neural pathways

that we can walk, hand-in-hand, to our deaths

two negatives don’t make a positive

but they can make a short-circuit, bypass a whole

section of brain, invert it and turn it on myself—

“you’ll never know. Hah!”

When did this happen? What was the turning point,

the one I didn’t notice, the moment the potential flicked from

positive to negative? Perhaps it coincided with the toast

popping up from its slot, a subtle but sudden noise that

masked the trip of my internal psyche switch

so by the time I reached for the the crust—

far darker than usual, although not quite burnt,

my inattention has led to the 

Catastrophe of singed sourdough,  

casting a pall over breakfast

And it’s all my fault. No other explanation, even the

slightest error haunts me—he, magically having borne

these butterfly wings, whose flutter can upset the peace talks

on the other side of the world. Well, that's a bonus, isn't it?

To have that power after all these months out of control.
Exploring the somewhat fickle and flighty nature of thought, the arbitrariness of what we sometimes decide is good or bad, and the unwarranted blame and guilt we bring upon ourselves.

Dedicated to Patrick.
Pondering in Spring
Warming up in tranquil minds
Leaves falling gracious

My hearts runs gently
The light gives inner mind rest
Gardens spread onward

Slumber intertwined
Stress, my fallen foe falls quick
Rain becomes voiceless
Some haikus from my journal!
Mediating under the shade of a tree is beyond relaxing, I swear!
My mind feels settled now.
94 fricking followers?!? OMG! OMG! OMG!
INSANE! Thank you all so much!
I was thinking, should I open a Twitter/Instagram?
I'm not sure if I should. I would mainly be writing
and drawing on there.
Anyway, I'm super grateful for the support here!
HP IS THE BEST!
Be back soon!
Lyn xxx
i miss you more than you know
the thing is
i don't think i ever i cross your mind
and that hurts
it really kills me
to know you're fine without me
maybe happy
and i am struggling to get through my days
without seeing your face
crumbling at the very thought of you
i miss you so dearly
Hiraeth calls me
it is painful
and sometimes ineffable
I could not word it
longing, longing, longing
your name,
you know
is mellifluous

But hiraeth calls me
I'm in limerence
with the thought of you
Maybe that is why
I can not stand it
everytime you look at me
and speak
this feeling is illicit
I want you

And hiraeth calls me
I'm feeling homesick
home, home, home
to you,
you know
I can not return
you were never mine.
i spoke to God of you.
he replied and described you as one of his angels;
Raphael, Nathaniel, Gabriel, you.
your soul ethereal and eternal,
ever serving God.

and daisies and sunflowers rounded your halo,
and i kissed your broken ribs that your red bandage hid,
and the blood pouring out of my eyes watered your roses;
(do not worry, it didn’t stain).

God sighed,
“he was the angel that left.”
Far beyond the time
Close to the thoughts

Exists the empire of a heart
Genre: Experimental
Theme: The connections
are we all too far away from each other
to notice those in need of extra love
there are many quietly hurting
silently dying
take more thought
give more love
We turn the volume down on the world when we look at it through a closed window. Seeing the wind blow the trees but with no impact. Watching a car go by with only an echo of the sound it makes. I sit up late at night, open my window and see the world animate before me. The silent street hums with the sound of rustling trees, a faint and undetermined buzzing rings. In the distance I can hear shouts from some hard to pin down location. A man walks through the street, a minor character on his way to a different story. A car drives by, the headlights shine lighting previously hidden front gardens and bouncing off street signs, twisting how the shadows dance. A few homes are illuminated on the inside, others are not. Each one contains a world, they have the world on mute as I do. What a strange power we have, to be able to pause the world, lock our doors and close our curtains, turning it off till we feel the need to return. Each house I can see from my window has a back garden that I have never seen, the chances are I won’t. Each door bursts at the seams with a story to tell, each garden holds memories painted onto its walls. A fox walks through the street stopping in the middle of the road, no one else is here but the fox and me looking on. A simple scene of sentimentality plays out, this moment is mine. The fox runs away startled by some noise I can’t perceive, we shared a moment he wasn’t aware of and that I don’t yet understand the meaning of but it all falls into place. Like patterns on a tapestry I feel more and more that my moments are connecting, that with each day the muted sensation that I dared to carry with me when I left the world on pause for so long is fading. I feel the cold of the windows glass, the breeze of the cold air on my skin, my feet against the window ledge I’m propped up on. It all feels real now, I’m becoming aware of how aware I’ve become. I feel I am finding myself present in life for the first time, my actions are felt while I act them. I breath in and enjoy the exhale. This is me at 3.36am, Tuesday 29th May, 2018. I hope I don’t forget you when I return again in the morning.
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