My methods to run away have been eradicated to ash and steam, always hot at the moment.

The place where my heart resides is only hazardous, confusing itself with toxins.

The place where the brain commutes with the rest is not functioning.

One thing holding you captive to chains, your imagination carrying you to somewhere else.

Listen to the doubters, they say “You’ll never stop.”

Like a tunnel all hollow their only echoes are denial.

Whatever situation you're in, plead with two hands to take it away.

Even when tears dont fall and it's hot outside, outcry to make it work.

On the two knees you use to stabilize yourself, look up and watch the clouds drift as time does.

Intense focus on the clouds as they move inside time and intense focus on the conflict inside.

Cry out more to make it payout, because if all your efforts are in vain, something is not working.

My eyes stare at words
like vege and meat
on a cutting board,
cutting each to meaning
                               sound
                            meter,
sentences and syllables,
my OCD mind refuses to stop
revving the gas pedal
on my 1991 Buick LaSabre
before doing donuts in the parking lot
of a shut down K-Mart.

I had an idea
  Of what to write
                          say
                        recor­d
But got lost
like a rabbit who took
the wrong turn at Albuquerque—
and so I’m lost for words,
but here I am.

This poem
I want it to show me the way
These days, how can I nurture my love more?

What kind of a poem would truly help me?
How can I be helpful to others, too?
I choose my words pretty carefully.

Should I write about life?
Should I be avoiding strife, and holding on and feeling off?
But it all belongs here, I can't make it disappear...

Feeling stuck and trying to move,
Listening to one's heart's groove,
Hoping for an answer in the distance...

A white boat sailing towards the sun,
Those last seconds before it disappears
In the ocean, or the sea...

Darkness comes and the red goes away,
We experience change anyway.
Nurturing my soul by giving hope to others,

Writing from the heart, late at night in bed.
Instead of healthily falling asleep,
My mind was searching for a place to take the leap,

To express concerns and worries to me,
To make me want to let go genuinely,
But I ever slow begin to understand,

What it means when I don't need to pretend.
I don't know how I would handle that...