I am tired.
Tired of the greed, the materialism,
the artificial realism.
Medicines to cope, false hope..opioids
the killer dope.

I am bored.
Bored with the faithless optimistics, party goers bathing in that sea of chaos...politics.

I am tired.
Tired of the hunger, and the homelessness that at times feeds glory seeking kindness.

I am bored.
Bored with the phones...the internet.
Allowing people to interact without having to connect.

I am tired.
Tired of the why and the what for,
lies of peace masking the truth of war.

I am so very tired and bored but
mostly with me.
More so with myself than with other people, politics and technology.
Sometimes I wish life would just set me free.

When I am a young poet
I love to make my dreams
come true like sunbeams.
I never want to be late.
Love dreams of me, I bet!

I would shine the world
with my lovely poems.
I will make the streams
and just won't be ribald.
Love will come to me, I bet!

Lately my soul screams
for the beautiful nature,
Lives are like ice creams
and all souls will be a vapor!
That will happen, I believe it.

I love you and the creation
Please lemme stay a while!
God, I need your supervision
I bow to you and always will!
I always want to be perfect.

Your happy smile brings my morning
and draws my dreams on this mind,
Your kind loving heart makes me blind
and melts my youngness like raining!

I am not a wizard, I'm just a dreamer
I'm untouched and you're my dream
I am shy, I am not used to be a lover
I am still cold like vanilla ice cream!

You are strong and wise about love
and maybe I was dreaming of you,
I have been flying as a single dove
If you kind me then I will owe you!

I feel so happy today and I feel fresh
and I feel your heart inside of mine,
On my cloudy nights, you're the flash
You are close to me, now I am so fine!

Hello,  I am a puddle person.
I'm certainly not the only puddle person, of course.
And I often think I'm more puddle then person.

I lay on the floor still.
People come by and see themselves reflected in me.
Sometimes they step in me,  and drops of me splish around and evaporate.

I'm content being a puddle it's, comfortable.
People are aware of me whether looking at themselves, tip toeing around me or jumping in.

I am NOT invisible.

Love me or hate me this puddle person isn't going anywhere,
until I become more puddle then person.

I’m addicted to the feel of cold metal sliding across bare flesh
Addicted to the instant
when nothing marks smooth skin
immediately before
red rivers rapidly rise
painting a once white canvas
with a flood of emotion,
tears on my cheeks,
sobs caught in my throat,
numbness replaced by pain & sadness.
Addicted to the imperfection
of red welts and dotted scabs that follow,
fingers drawn like magnets
to the texture of healing skin,
tracing over and over and over now fading ridges
Amazed that I am strong enough
to heal myself over and over and over.
Convincing myself that I am strong enough.
I find strength in my weakness.

I listened to this
Song last night.

Its message so simple
But deep.

It basically said
Something along the lines of...

What would it be like to
Live in a dream but never
Have been to sleep
And that my friend
Was the moment
Of your birth