Head pulses, body is stiff
In the cool dark night, cigarettes are kissed
Dissassembled
writing,Hand trembling trying to assemble.
How the core of this inflicting hole
is hard to reach for
My eyes want to close
feel so Fatigued. I need to breath
Maybe I should pack my things & leave
And only thing left is me...
My shoulders ache in grieve
Ink from my pen furiously bleeds
It writes words on the page .... like "free,"" be me,"
"seek a divinity"
awake to beauty in simplicity
writing needs that float in distort,
chaos of emotion are constantly in war
trapped with no sight of a door
with eyes open, what am I looking for?
Am I close to knocking on heavens door?
Witness in my wilderness
"Nervous beakdown" which one can conclude
As you can see
I am that living proof
No comments:
Post a Comment