Fluidic motivation.
Lies wrapped in lies
and more lies.
Deliciously oozing deception,
tempting tasty treats.
Perspective dances lightly
tiptoes across fields of truth
twirling out of reach
ever changing and evolving.

Out

I lay exhausted,
in a bed I've made,
praying to a god
that doesn't exist,
for sleep to claim me.
To escape
to a world
of waking dreams
where reality is not
and confusion reigns.
Where there is no goal
and no quest
and no outcome.
The abyss
where the mind floats
freely in a hazy
drifting weightlessness.
Where anything is nothing
and impossible is possible.
The only true freedom.

Scars

Touched an old scar today.
Remembered when it used to bleed.
When I used to pick the scab,
hurting to try and feel.

Do you even know?
Would you even care?

You abandoned me to die.
Strangers in my bed.
Crying myself to sleep,
hurting to try and feel.

Do you even know?
Would you even care?

Woke up alone one day.
Body broken and bruised.
A shattered mind and soul,
hurting to try and feel.

Do you even know?
Would you even care?

Woke up scared one day.
Terrified I was losing myself.
Burned your memory away,
hurting to try and forget.

Do you even know?
Would you even care?

The scars are all that remain.
Long healed and silvery white.
Sometimes I still touch them,
sometimes they still hurt.

Insomnia

I sleep dreamless.
And yet when I wake I dream.
Unreal images,
reality merged
with fantastical illusion,
faded at the edges,
creased and worn.
I struggle to breathe,
drowning in uncertainty.
A world turned inside out.
Through closed eyes
I find peace in oblivion,
in dreamless sleep,
where the world makes sense.

Love's End

What happens when love dies?
Does it go slowly and softly,
a whisper of silk sliding off the end of a bed?
Does it go violently and with passion,
a hurricane of tempestuous proportions
slamming against a brick wall?
Does it drift away in the night,
a thief stealing off in the shadows?
Whether loud or quiet, passionate or passionless,
it leaves a vacant, empty void when love dies.
A patch of painful barren ground.
But where there is death,
there is hope
that one day life and love will spring anew.

Cherry Blossoms

A cloud of pink petals
blows around my head
dancing delicately in the breeze.
Lightly
they drift like pink snowbanks.
Releasing, as I crush them
unintentionally,
with clumsy feet,
the sweet fragrance of spring.

Hush

In the stillness,
in the silence,
there is peace,
there is truth.

If you listen,
if you hear,
there is peace,
there is truth.