any ol

too choppy

A twang to my ear
helped along on a heart ache

I'd never had,
but wanted to.

Something told me
fingers are there to touch ya,
but I couldn't stand it

in my right state of mind.

I haven't taken time to combat

I haven't seeped in the lush feelings straight into my fat.

But I've stared at my skin too long
to know where I'm at
but my
paleness stopped getting the stroke
by you or any ol'.

Keep running into the folk looking for a heart to corrode.
Mentioned it once before
that I'd hadn't kept that hurt to hold,
just been letting myself get pinched till that got old
and I go and slow till I perish.

It's just a chronic sad that motivates me in motion
but I always fold

Reviews

[Chris]

The first four lines hold a lot of truth
and the last two - are an -ism that too many live.

[. serah .]

-- i think sometimes that when sadness is the fuel, then everything we do or don't becomes deeply expressive... -- we wonder if there's an end to how we feel and if we will recognize the oasis of healing in case we chance upon it, but everything is as uncertain as the fragility of thoughts and emotions that travel from one moment into another... morphing into different shapes and shadows of our perceptions... -- we go through cycles of getting confused and letting go... until the 'self' becomes more and more pronounced and accentuated... ultimately serving as the reservoir of relief that we crave... or so i think and hope... after reading your beautiful and poignant foray into exploring the many dimensions of existence...