a cigarette helps to numb the pain,
i just hope it doesn’t become a habit.
like you were to me.

-ehx

Many have said why do I write so much.
I said
"I been listening to the flow of art of my pen".

The beautiful voices that have said to me to CONTINUE.
You can listen to my pen and
what it has said
to this piece of paper.

There are times where I can no longer see myself as a person.
Only what's coming out of my pen,
The ink I compare my self to.
But where has the emotions gone to?
If I'm only ink?

Emotions that I can never discribe.
Ink that crys on it own
For every movement my hand makes,
A different form of pain comes out.
Emotions that can only be  described through this pen.
Excietment, happiness, pain and sarrow,
all coming out at once.

There are nights where I close my self to the world, while under the night light preferring to open up with my Pen.

The last drops of ink has spilled
An said out loud

A Pen without ink is a Pen without it's owners soul.


                                                            By ERS

After all this time I can now sit an write
Forgetting my pass years of endless flights.
Desintations among the shadows,
Where images cannot Appear.
For some reason
I closed my self to this lonesome fog.
Making my ink
to stop.
My Agony becomes extensions of deadly Airs,
For dying leaves to settle in my grave.
My lonely nights
Are poems in a difficult times
Turning beautiful flowers to gloom
In cemeteries.
It appears me that I have open my self to a word of emptiness,
An rumours to me became a curtain for eyes to never see happiness.
As I say in between my words
An call out
"I feel Alone among millions"…..



                                                 ­          By  
                                                            ­    E.R.S

I have committed a crime,
The cine that I have made
when my eyes saw you for the first time.
The first time was like a star has strucked me.
Zeus's bot has no impact like you have had in me.
It's like sleeping became a recipe for all my fantasies  with you.
A dream with you I had many times,
Then I wake up bathed in sweat
And seeing you werent next to me.

A dream i had with you,
Ment dreaming with my eyes open,
Am I dead or alive?

Made you a main character that I can not chase in real life.




            
                                                    BY ERS

There are many times where I close my self to the world
An reveal a part of me
that's full of anger,
Because these emotions
are all bottle up in every dark corner of my body.
Its as if the mystery of the ocean has been
finally revealed out to the world.
I know it the complete opposite
It doesn't need to rhyme nor make sense,
It's called crying
Like the little bit of rain we all need, but
Doesn't let a rainbow to show it colors when it stops.
I over think alot
an over analys things
An create walls in me.
It's called inslavment of the mind.
Everyone says open up,
But the insecurity hits me like a brick wall
I know that's what I believe, but those are called tears.
Mean while the sun blinds me with its beauty, yet I have no senses to let my bottled emotions out to the light.
The darkest corners of my body
are yet deceiving, but that's how I made them feel into.
Shallow waters  I've been there, an made it my playground.
This is me in my final hour, crying all out
because I don't want these bottled feelings any more.

It's called crying this monster out…..


                                                BY ERS

Love is...
      
      Breathless anxiety
      Of amplified emotions
      With uncomfortable growth
      And shuddering awe
      Of inconsolable gratitude.

Even if you're not here,
Even if we're not in contact,
Even if its been a long time that i saw you,
Even on the days i'm angryand bitter,
Even when nothing is fine and life's a mess.
Even if my hopes are gone and my faith's fading away, slowly and slowly.
I'll still choose to be in love with you.
I'll breath deeply and slowly,
Praying for you,
Willing all my love to follow you where ever you go.