A liberation
From the permanent
Weight
On your face

Clear crisp outlines
And details
Blur into
Fuzz

Your eyes relax and start
To adjust
The orchestra begins
To play

The players
Dressed in black
Look like dancing
Shadows
The light spaces
Between them
Take up a shape
Of their own

On them I write
Words of thoughts
That overwhelm
Me
Distract me
Annoy me
Drive me
Crazy

The mysteries of
My mind remains
Untold
Guarded by
The intricate
Origami
Birds

There they remain
Silent
Until you decide
To open it
And let the chaos
Unfold

Poems are little
Snippets
Of what goes on
In one’s mind

Poems are made of
Short
Lines
Preferably those
That rhyme

Poems can be
Shallow
About the little things
Happening on
The surface

Poems can be
Deep
About the fractured thoughts
Underneath a
Painted smile

Poems can be silly
Full of fun
And laughter

Poems can be serious
Filled to the brim
With melancholy

Poems can be happy
A world of sunshine
Rainbows
And all things nice

Poems can be sad
Raining with tears
Peppered with sighs
And others that are not that
Nice

Poems depend
On their creators
To give them
That special touch
That special identity
To who you are
To what you really
Think and feel

"Walking down the line
That divides me somewhere
In my mind"

Splits the sides
Right through
The middle of
The endless battles

And in your path
Lies
Broken shards
Of
Thoughts
Emotions
Dreams
Memories
And everything
Else

Worries
steps
ow

Selfishness
steps
o­w

Hate
steps
ow

Anger
steps
ow

Jealousy
steps­
ow

Each step
Bringing about
New pains
New problems
New ****
Rising from that line
You're walking down
Strewn with those
Shards

Ultimately leading you
To that bottomless
Crevasse
.
.
.
.
.
.

Everything
Fades

Everything
Goes

Everything
Breaks

Everything
­Blows

I take a look
Around
And find
Nothing standing
Zilch

Only till
My eyes catch
That little corner
That cozy little
Corner
With a rug –
A soft one, like the ones they used
In kindergarten
A blanket –
The downy ones
A pile of pillows –
Of all sizes
A charger socket –
To recharge my music player
A set of earphones –
Those noise cancelling ones
Complete with
A guitar
And a nice
Black
Piano
To hide
Everything
From sight

This safe
Little
Haven
Is the only thing
Left

Too bad
It’s
*Imaginary

I don't lie
I just phrase things
Differently

I don't hide
I drop hints
Everywhere

You just
Don't
Notice

Yuck
Not again
I'm failing
For yet another
Time

Walls collapsing
Mask disintegrating
Voice disappearing
Smile vanishing
Thoughts muddling

Grip is
Loosening
Throwing me back
Into that ******
Pit
I fought so hard
To climb out
Of

My strength is
Depleting
I don't think
I can make that climb
Again
Or at least
Fight that
Monster
Suppress it
Squash it
Ultimately
**** it

My control is
Slipping
My tongue is
Sharpening
My voice either
Booming
Or vanishing
Evil thoughts
Rampaging

I wish it would stop
Where's my will
When I need it
I need it back
To climb
To talk
To smile
To fight
That
Blasted
Side

I can run
But not for long
It will catch up
It has already caught on

And nothing
Already
Matters
Anymore