Drawn to the sea.
Wash out my eyes.
The ash can't be unseen.

Drown out the screams.
Burn away my ears.
The things I can't un-hear.

Whisper the destruction
of my mind once
again.

The debris of what could have
been.

Drawn to the sea.
Once more to find
faded dreams washed ashore.

Drown the hope.
Wash away.
Burn it all.

Silent screams still whisper for a chance to surface.

How many times can I pull the wires from the wall?

The circuits. I never thought they could bleed.

But the corrosion that seeps reminds me that yes, yes they very much can stain everything it touches.

Why? Were wires crossed? Was there just tape there to keep it dry and together? Who knows what spark was caused, but it was ignored.

The smell of melted plastic and burning cables fills my head. It's a foul stench, but I can't move. Even if I could I'd still smell the smoldering remains.

Mainly, because I still have the wires ripped from the wall still in my hand like a wilted bouquet of flowers.

Peel back the skin.
Relinquish yourself.
You never knew anyway.

Quit holding back and trying
to tape the falling walls that were
built from lies and deceit all your life.

Scared of the scars that you might
receive from it all crashing down, but
have you seen yourself recently?

You still have your bones.
You still have your thoughts.
You still have a heart.

Pathetic liars
cracking at the skin.

Ink drying up, but
nothing ever written down.

A calamity of words
never hearing the light of day.

Keep pressure on the wound
even if there is no blood
we wouldn't want an infection
now would we?

See it dissolves and has frothing
like feeling. A taste that never
really leaves.

Try to think of something else
to keep from retching. Twisting
,physically, your insides as it becomes
a metaphor of where you've found yourself

this time.

As if time stood still
You sat there waiting wondering
slipping spinning
sinking
yet again.

Almost like your mind
turns against you.
Doesn't let you see how
much time is really passing.
Everything is in slow motion.

The trick is everything is still
happening. You've just closed
your eyes to hard to see it. Open
them again and see how much has
changed.

It will pass you by
in a feint whisper.

Not again.

How many secrets does the ocean have?
Maybe just as many as the mountains.

It's funny how such a vast difference
can share such similarities as one another.

Because things change overtime doesn't
mean there wasn't a past.

Only a fool could think they could
change the ever unchanging.

To watch it go by why thinking
of how to change what went wrong.

Look to the mountain and it's friend the ocean.
From bottom to top there are many things we
cannot change as the vastness continues to grow
much as our questions.

Why pull threads
when it's your hands that will get tangled?

The thought of undoing something
gave perhaps great pleasure.

I don't know. I found my resolve
to not worry, or maybe it's to not ask?

The woven piece now just tatters.
It was a nice thought once I suppose.

Ironically, what was once undone can be
put back together in a better way.

You just have to be able to start from
the beginning again. Can you see a
future from something that once was
intertwined before?