Mindful rants..

I’ve come to realize that the absence of expression signifies the presence of regression. That if one were to cage their emotions, repress their thoughts, bite back the tip of their tongues to keep the words from falling; disquietude will make a home of their body. Forebodings will move into the guest room, and anxiety will plant poisoned seeds in their garden. No dam in the world is powerful enough to hold back the oceans in her eyes, but brick by brick she will try. She will hold back the ocean until the strain becomes something even Atlas could not bear. She will beg to release the ocean, release its weight, but she forgot how her tear ducts work and her hands ache to lift Atlas’ burden to distract from her own. And now her home lies on the other side of the dam, the unwelcome guests having made themselves comfortable. She begs her body to release the ocean, to drown the garden and wash away the remnants of its residual poison. She’s begging on her knees, and to some it may look like she’s praying for divine intervention. To others it will look like she’s awaiting an execution. 

Let this be my last sleep...

Can I lay down on your lap Ma
Can I just close my eyes for two seconds
I want to rest Ma
Rest my eyes Ma
Rest my soul,
I'm in pain ma, let it all dissolve as you stroke my hair
And let me pass in to the land where all is blank and peaceful
Can I lay down on your lap Ma
Can I just close my eyes for two seconds
I'm tired of this world Ma
I don't think I fit in anymore
Just let me rest my fears and sleep as the winds swallow my pain
Can I lay down on your lap Ma
Can I just close my eyes for two seconds...

Karma's Inferno

You prepared me for fire
Slowly warming my days
Now you burn for another
I watch and twist in the blaze...

In your grasp...

...Pain so sharp, it pierced my soul
An illusion so vivid, it embroiled my world
The vines of my heart stifling my breath
The thorns of sorrow, grasping my mind
Confusion, chaos and misery all at once
A bundle so priceless yet better than none
The ailment of the soul
That only time can cure
For now I must wait with this pain so pure...

Sleepless

My eyelids weigh heavily at the tug of sleeps firm hand, but my mind refuses to submit.          
I play my past mistakes in a haunting nightly montage. 
Each evening until the darkness breaks to dawn, I build upon the shrine of my angst.
The hours vanish along with my sane thoughts,
As the lining of my conjuring’s sepulcher grows thicker.                                
I rearranging the wiring of my mind,
Eventually pull a wire that releases me from anxiety’s catacombs;
And  allows slumber to infest my weary bones.