My-Soul-Bleeds-Ink

Have you ever wondered why We have that itchy need of measuring time? Only man has created a complicated system Dedicated to the sole purpose of Knowing how much time is left Until our time is up in this world. We are counting the seconds to our death. (Hadn't thought if it that way, huh?) Instead of enjoying our time on earth, Enjoying all those precious moments That cannot be measured by a clock, Those timeless moments that seem to last forever. Each year that goes by, People lament a year lost Instead of celebrating what they've done. Instead of saying "Well, at least, I'm still here." Everyone is on a deadline to something... Work, s

Sit at the computer, stare at the screen Look at how it blinks, hiding the words unseen Hover the fingers toward the keys Stop, pause, tilt of the head, sigh and walk away. Try again, try again, try again. Writing something on command isn't easy It's unlike drawing doodles in a notebook where stick figures fight and notes are lost because words can't just flow by opening those floodgates. Try again, try again, try again. Smelling of oil, sopping wet plop back in the computer chair and flick on the screen stare at the blinking light, the poetry yet to write, yet to be seen. Write for another, write by this date Do it this way, do it that

Like a Blanket 30-12-15 Sorrow sits like a blanket binding my wounds, As I wonder whys and hows and whos. It covers me completely from head to tipsy toes, As I wonder why it’s always got to go That sorrow comes, in dead of night, Sending joy cowering for cover in fright. Sadness succumbs to sorrow’s curse, And what makes it worse Is that it’s nearly new year’s day; I’m cursed in that way, You’ll see, That when I need to set goals I’m never free To just set them and be. Depression curls like a cat around my heart, And I wonder why we were apart For such a time, and how I could have longed For it t

i have trees in my head tiny toothpicks in my brain poking and prodding the inside of my skullcap the leaves tickle and the branches scratch i don’t mind though; it’s a beautiful forest. during the autumn, the leaves fall to the ground millions and millions of thoughts fragments piling together and becoming one very few are understood individually so the gardener clumps the siblings together; i thank him for that. where do i get my ideas? the answer is simple; it’s the forest in the fall where there’s toothpick trees and a quiet gardener with a rake the Sun remains static; but the leaves hardly do.

The room is on fire As you start to speech You start by 'ungrateful' I'm a profiteer, a leach Temperature rising As you start to cook Over my sins You can't overlook The atmosphere, vibrating Molecules racing As you list my 'problems' We have been facing Your stone cold heart Has split Into raging inferno Can't you feel 'it'?

I watched the way the others hid, Emotions buried, wrath forbid, They’d go about their average day, With monotones and feeble play, Their access to such raging blues, Were saved and stocked in safes unused, The wildest shining brightest smile, Slipped out but every once awhile, Rare sharper stings from hearts un-thawed, The rainbow thoughts always ignored, Of course the cold consistently, Would bruise the dull and freeze the free, But winds can’t shake external flow, Though deep inside tornadoes grow, I watched the vessels, souls restricted, And knew at once my flaws depicted, As I can’t keep my thoughts togethe

Cheek pressed to cheek Cheek pressing to stone Warmth spread to me I wish I had known Sweet smiles exchanged All those joys are gone Laughter rang around Why does this seem so long? One last longing look You promised you'll be fine We kiss and hug and wave Our unknowing goodbye My fingers trace your name Just over your resting place You'll always be in my heart Just never face to face

I yearn for the gates to open for the spirits to take flight I stare up into a glimmering onyx sky and pray for the dead to descend I offer everything I have and surround it with candlelight I scream at the cotton candy clouds demanding they take a different shape I howl when the moon shows it’s face and the clouds vanish behind its light I take the blade and push it deep because I need to see her I sink into the sand I belong beneath the land I haunt endless rows of stones a forsaken bag of bones

The Candle is Hot My coffee is cold. The candle is hot, my thoughts are not. Mind-Watch, mood-sniffs scanning. Block by block. Lot by lot. The candle is low. Feelings don't glow. My coffee is cold. My coffee is cold. The candle won't cook, I'm not a crook. Psyche-gang, last night shooting. All are same. Think that they do. The candle won't tell. I'll hide a spell. My coffee is cold. My coffee is cold. The candle is home, in city of chrome. Safe-shack, hidden not seeing. Walls I know. Doors they don't. The candle is small. Alone in my sprawl. My coffee is cold. My coffee is cold. The candle is mine. Coffee packs: nine. Grub-grab, I must be