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I'm far from filling this vacant void,
this depth is undoubtedly nothing,
I'm not anything more than I appear,
in fact I'm much less than what you think.

This empty menu with no orders,
I have no customers to serve,
I'm just a motionless wheel turning,
held in the air with no direction.
Hunger for understanding, where does it lead to, does anything really matter. What's the point, I often wonder what is the point to any of this, do we really have purpose, does not fate take us to the spirit?
Does this really matter anymore,
coming from a passionless former *****.

I speak from the depths of me,
a broken ship cast out to a stormy blue sea.

Holes in my bilge  overflowing,
and my sail is barely even showing.

Engulfed by dark  salty  waters,
sharing  space in Davy's  locker with my forefathers.
This an analogy of my love, and how it is venturing on a broken ship, not valued because it has no value for itself. But I'm changing my self so one day I will cast out to sea in a nice boat.
Bacon sizzles
*** fizzles out
Bacon comforts
Relationships cause discomfort.
© JLB
23/10/2014
12:13 BST
 Oct 2014 Thessa J Pickett
r
discordant qualities
- a layered beauty
worn casually

- a complicated
pretty lady -

i paint her black
lace *******
- i praise her
on her knees.

r ~ 10/24/14
: )
 Oct 2014 Thessa J Pickett
bones
She's an alphabet artist
she paints in words,

from a palette of adjectives,
nouns and verbs,

the landscape she finds
in the folds of her mind

she exhibits in volumes of verse.
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