There lies a crazy, mixed up pile of prose,
that may have beauty but not like a rose.
Be careful now, don't step on my toes,
for I need them to dance, I do suppose.

The words hang heavy
over my head,
pressing firmly,
around my neck,
weighing me down,
without uttering a sound,
I have drowned
in my silence.

(a little re-write from 12/2017)

A lonely tear, slides down my cheek
as I think of this life of ours.
It pains me when recalling you,
now the tear has become two.
I am not weeping, there is no more.
Just the tick of a clock.

My mind is running away from me.
I think I need a pre frontal lobotomy.
Thoughts that are stuffed in every place,
Wedged in cracks or any empty space.
I need some time. Time to think
Or I may have to turn to drink.