Lava restrained so far
lava kept in so that I would not 
hurt.

Patience, effort, agony
to resist the equilibrium it seeks.
No. I cannot let it happen.

Don’t let it pour
keep it in
don’t destroy the
surroundings that keep you
in sync

Don’t destroy the nature that
builds your very being
that you love with all your 
heart

Never hurt
abide by the wishes of the
weather
the earth
of the people
whose homes stand above your existence.

For,
my existence 
should make me feel ashamed
I do not deserve to
live for 
the lives I have destroyed
despite trying so hard to
save what I 
so desperately cared for.

No.
every now and then the lava leaks out
and I cannot control it
and the more I keep it in the more destruction it wreaks when it 

brutally explodes.
a rushing cataclysm of glowing magma.

And so, for the destruction it will cause
I cannot restrain it.
Instead I plunge, pull myself down into a world of
inevitable despair

fighting to accept that the harm I have caused
cannot be worse than what it would be
had I kept it in much longer.

fighting 
praying
that the harm is reversible

that I can regain balance with the weather
the earth
and the people whose homes stand above my existence.

To them
just a force of evil 
of hatred
impossible of love or kindness

Not realising the lava are the volcano’s
tears of despair and anguish

while I keep a strong front for sake of my sanity
while I resist the urge to
destroy myself into pieces of 
merciless self-blame 
on the brink of depression

where I am pulled up by the fire
that makes my existence
because I am not alone.

Only move on.

Perpetual fear-
I refuse to-
mind racing
stop
I beg.
you.

Volcanoes can only be inactive for so long.



Please hold on.

 

River rushing through creek.
Water, rocks, trees,
assuming shape, knowing surroundings
invariably, flowing through law
law flowing through it
Knowledge contained in its essence

Not conscious
but the end-point is clear, intrinsic to its existence,
the embodiment of natural law.

How some assume to be the river!
With absolute certainty they insist to
know the world.

Water, rocks, trees
the creek shapes us, knows us,
but we do not know the creek. 

And yet
somehow we may take any shape
more like an uncontrollable fire
holding the freedom of
choice.

Not knowing what is ahead
nor understanding the reality we have
changed. Yet having to
think, decide and
live.

To choose our own way
to make our own creek.

Though overwhelmed by the thought of the
consequences
I embrace the thought and
go to sleep.

​

Drowning 
Drowning so deep I just.
don’t know. where I’m going
anymore

Taken by a journey
and its too late to turn back.

Only move forward.

No matter how hard I try
I can’t stop thinking about
the days.
I look back at the pictures
I look back to the past.
And I cry

This time,
its different.

There’s a reason why I can’t slap
yet words don’t slap
they destroy.

My words are an atomic bomb. Never slap. Kill. Torture. Ravage - and I
and I can’t undo the damage 
the damage that is done. 

I stare at what I’ve done. Just stare,
and while he sees indifference
he can’t see the hurt, the pain that hides beneath the screen.

When I try to piece it all back together
how can I expect anyone to take me seriously
how can I expect anyone to think anything of me other than
a liar
a hypocrite.

This time. Its different.
Drowning so deep
Too late to turn back
I can’t stop thinking
And I cry.
Only move forward.

You don’t understand. This time is different.
I fight the storm that pushes me
where no one wants to be.

I fight the guilt, the hurt, the regret. 
I chose my way
a way I was too weak to take.

A road without signs, 
Dark.
No lampposts.
Nothing to guide.
If I fall
deep deep deep
into a hole
that even as I fall
I cannot see.

Words can encourage me
or they can drown me
but in the end
they don’t drag me up, 
that is only for me to do.

I let myself go
don’t restrain
just let go

Pray.

Breathe.
I breathe and look out the window.
but no matter how hard I breathe
I’m broken

No breath of fresh air will piece me back
together. 

Pray that time will heal.

Thrust me down into the deepest hole.
I said I would never give up.
 

Defeated.
Alone.
No words.

No words.
Just me staring at my desk
head in hands
eyes
tears
don’t want to
pour 
my soul
I don’t know.

I listen to the background noise
of what I could destroy
if I open my mouth

Words.
But there are none.

So why do I write on this
blank page.
As I fail to speak
my
thoughts

I don’t know
what
to
I
am
lost.

Lost
in mad darkness.

I am
weak.

Weak 
as a storm
trapped in a cage
where the lightning is 
too soft to hate.

I don’t know.
 

Alone.
I am an immobile stone.
Desperation hits as I
attempt to stop an unstoppable 
storm.

That never ends
that I can't heal

Caused by the
evil workings of a violent world.

The human race has provoked it
as it ravages the beautiful lands
that once existed
in a place now unknown

A world now unknown.

Desperate
we try to find ourselves
fighting against a force that thrusts us
downward.

A force that feeds on
our everlasting blindness.
Ill, we damage the
world around us.

Storms arise
front
back
inside us.

What power do I have against
this mass destruction?

Desperate I work to
fight against 
the blindness
imposed consequence of
this world’s violence

Desperate 
I fight against the 
attack that those
unwilling have 
forced onto
this crying world.

I pick up the dust.
Dust that once made up
the unwavering stone
that fought against the
impossible power
of injustice.

Pieces back together
I look at myself.

Alone
An immobile stone.
I fight against
the unstoppable storm
the force that
feeds on our blindness
the world’s violence.

I have no power against this
mass destruction.

I am dust,
broken by the impossible
power of injustice.

A crying world.

My hope is crushed
I am powerless.
But I will never give up.
 

It pierces.
The pain
The guilt
the pressure.

Like the throbbing
of my head.

The words.

The gentle breeze does care for me,
it really does. 
But ever so fragile as the smallest leaf
i fall 
defeated
to the words
the words of pain
its pain
not mine
but mine

that subtle movement
is a hurricane
that leaf
its cause

it makes no sense
nothing does
but both the gentle breeze
and the leaf
know.

its mine. 
like the throbbing in my head.