Do I write Poems?
Or do I plagarize his mind.

Do I press a jagged pen
Williningly into his tortured flesh?

Do I own these words?
Are they on lease from his screams?

Do I lock the door?
With his pounding to be freed?

My body, my mind
If you don't like it get out

Your words are nightmares
I suppose we both are prisoners

Why do we always
run in circles
constantly trying to catch our breath.

Desperate to finish
when the end
brings us
back to where we began.

How far must we travel

to find ourselves at home

We Theorize and Plagarize

And the furthest we got was – Ohm.

We struggle so hard
Just to be Authentic.
Method acting
“Being Ourselves”

Playing
Hide
&
Seek


With our Ego

Grasping
Self


Only when we let go.






I’m ready to be found.