I trace your faded prints upon the dirt
around them, mud congeals to form my hurt
failing falling stars confuse my path

I shuffle feet for miles but stay inert
all false the trails refusing to subvert
antipathetic strands to stir my wrath

The trees all flay themselves to spill the secrets
thou swore undying oath to never keepest
lest all worlds align to hide the truth

Pausing, taking breaths beneath the deepest
floors of pits that tenderly would keep us
undestined, lost and wild to know our youth

And seek you out I must, I must, I will,
at universe's end, a galaxy
where we would rest, reborn; become, to be
where every breath relaxes into still

Ever will you walk alone, until
you witness me in my entirety
Come, my unforgotten one, you see
arrival less one is a bitter pill

Does my poetry
harm you?
I'm sorry
i only mean to
slip my blades on
myself
but sometimes
i forgot they hide
inside my thoughts
as well.

Placed on the spot, People walking by
Eyes shift to my direction,
Snickering and smiling
My anxiety rising
Trying to grip reality,
My superficial temple artery starts pounding, as my heart rate rises.

I can't take this any more I must find the door.

In search of enlightenment
I stumble.

EMDR handled my childhood traumas,
Small pebbles can grow into landslides if not checked.

Buddha's mindfulness allowed for some insight,
But being aware of my behaviour does not always lead to course correction,
My personal OnStar can merely suggest direction,
As I am only a passenger on this ride.

I am left strained.
I can see the road
And the beautiful sun set.
I can feel you beside me,
But I do not trust,
I fear
If I look too closely
I will find you gone.

And so I continue
My search for enlightenment,
My lasting hope is
When this journey ends
I will find you there.

your words poet
sing their song
In my innermost
each word completes
your welding craft
into memorable poems

Breath of life, it is a wild ocean
always a tide coming and going
in this place, it does not linger long
never holding on, only drifts quietly into night
into stars, into fleeting sparks of fire flies
or in the night waters, a ghostly glow
of phosphorescence, a transient trail
of luminescence that soon
fades and reappears to light
the deepest depths
of sea

If you have a moment,
Sir or Madam,
would you please hear my lament,
of the sad and woeful tale
Of Fail.

Hidden behind masks,
Enscribed with who he wished to be,
Yet,
Ever so deceptive,
Of his true identity.

Today, I am Ceasar,
Tomorrow, Shakespeare.
Yet,
These masks,
Are but a tool...

Tomorrow's play,
They will soon say,
Shall be my most glorious act,
Known to man!

With no regret,
Do not fret,
I shall don the greatest of all masks...
Myself!          

Now, you may ask,
Who is Myself?
We put our true identity on the shelves,
To show no mortal, not even ourselves!

Yet,
perhaps...
Bear with me...
If I were myself...
I would be content with myself!

No, no, no...Forgive Me!
Who am I to say this the way to be!
The only way to be merry...is to be someone who I am not!
To please others is the way to attain happiness, is it not?

Fail discarded his "Myself" mask that day,
Yet, forevermore, everyday,
He questioned who he was,
As he never truly felt to be himself.

Now, since you have stuck by me until the end of this tale,
And, with the unfortunate Fail,
I inquire of you, and, please, discard all of your masks, if you can:
Who are you, really?