Stringing along beads of life as I turn away from the piercing screams of loneliness.
Always being exchanged and never surpassed by anyone else’s life in many books of poetry.Listening thoroughly with an open heart, never believing that all of existent details will be expelled in poetical musings for a timeless period of usefulness.Unthinking thoughts, coagulating in volumes of musical compositions, interred in tomorrow’s essence.
Lonely, empty bottles, staring at me from shelves of disuse.
Delving into thoughts of emptiness, allotted to imagestransfigured in rags of bountyous relief.Never touching bottles, not wanting their emptiness to fillme also.Standing back, emotion draining from the life I was meant tolive.
Driving into a storm of lightening and thunder, circling issues of childhood set in permanent frames without doubts of what went on in days of old.
Sending messages into depths of subconsciousness, retrieving more intense emotions as they rise to the surface, polished and shining into my mind with prosaic intelligence, writing down every single atom with amazing confidence in self.Achieving many avenues of wisdom through incessant beats of musical perfection, helping me to step beyond limits of imagination, becoming treasures…
Feeling regret, ruing decisions of past mistakes,
Soul-touching sorrow brings me to my knees, yetI can’t seem to pray for hope as I lie in miseryday after day.Where can life go from here, but deeper into themires of saddened destiny, taking life with it’sforce into deep despair.No longer looking for tomorrow, only this momentis focusing me onto the grief-stricken desertsof my interior…
Standing back, realizing the voices of the future have gone beyond me.
Adjusting, not to well, to things that have been changing in ever increasing numbers.Letting go of every emotion, wallowing in self-pity, all by myself, no one else can linger alongside me.Staying alone and not feeling anything in place of your presence in my life.