words

It burns
the words swirl in a septic pool of rot.
Trapped with in my mind,
wanting
to break free of this prison
Hands can not move fast enough to
spread ink to page.
single thought
bursting at it's seem
splinter to a thousand
compound to a million.
A jumble mess hidden
behind the eyes.
will not speak
to afraid to write
for there is no understanding
my
riddleish speak.

reality

To be so dark
it's almost black
lack of heart
to save soul
consumed by light
to be so blind
in the coming night
lost hope
of realities release.

Birth of dispair

The deapths of my
Soul are
Tinted, painted
Black.
No light may reach
To save me from myself,
To save from all I am.
deep within a forgotten shell
Of who I thought I would once be.
Given freely
To to the
Sweet freedom
Of
My
Own
Dispair