Draft

Productive, 

I yearn stability

Black and white

Is gray.  Where 

Does color begin?

Red and yellow

Faded, monotone

Rainbow.  The sun's

Light is dull.  We see

Two-dimensional, and

We hide in flat lives,

Unfulfilled and clinging

To possessions, memories,

Safety in ignorance.  

What is the meaning, 

The purpose of being?

Eyes shut, we walk past

Starving children while

We ourselves over eat,

Eyes shut, we drive on

Past the crimes we see.

Justice is a money making

Operation, and we the people

Float along in the stream,

Allowing wrong to seize

The day.

Romanticize

Your fingers stand still,

Forever engraved on

Nerve endings, signaling

A hormone release

That induces nostalgia.

I see our hands dancing,

Flesh to flesh, magnetic

Forces pulling them

Close, electricity 

Circulating between 

The pair.

Where did I go wrong?

A Tuesday evening,

You vanished without

A trace:  I trace the

Image of your palm

Upon sand, yearning

For the past. 

I hold on to this image,

Perhaps lies I convince

Myself that there was more,

Than the really was.

Wednesday Evening

Exhausted

Fuel burns rapidly

Flames dull grey

Wednesday Morning

Liquid space

Tidal motions pull

Yin and Yang

Muse Abuse

Beauty holds many
Forms, visual to
Psychological.
She arrived in red,
Swirling fire,
Demanding desire.
I left on Tuesday,
Searching for more,
She didn't wait,
Left straight through
The door.  I smiled,
Wondering where
My mind was. Lesson
Learned.  Tuesdays,
Forever a horror day,
But I'll forever adore
That day... the day
I found love, and lost
Love.

She left in silence,
I went mad in
Isolation.  Torment,
Anguished..

Lesson learned.

Beauty holds many
Forms, a sadness
Of a life lived, and
A sadness of a life
Lost. Emotions,
Actions... Interact
Commingling.
Conspiring destruction,
Self-destruction.

She held my heart,
And dropped it
In the gutter.

The Hermit's Journal entry 3

I forgot the mind shuts down

In a crowd, my voice softens

To a near whisper, and I sit

In silence.  

It's good to be among the living,

Though I sink deeper into

Reclusion each time I step

Outside.  I miss the Suns warmth,

And sand between my toes. 

When will the grief end? 

I left all my friends,

And closed myself up inside...

Hid in books and music,

I don't even know 

Who is president?

Life passes unlived.

The Hermit's Journal - entry #2

I sat on the bank 

Watching the water 

Flow with leaves and 

Twigs slowly floating by.

I wondered what

Was beneath this gray

Liquid.  Loose earth 

Had made vision difficult.

I sat alone on the bank, 

As a great many rushed

By laughing.  I stood

To jump in, then quickly

Lost my nerve. Home 

Pulled me with a magnetic

Force that I could not resist.

The Hermit's Journal - Entry 1

Reclusion, at first 

Appears to be choice.

However, humans are creatures

Of habit, and a routine

Shyness can stop

A person from living

In this world.  

Disconnected - society

An ocean, and I 

Do not know how to swim.

I sit on the sand,

Peering out at the beauty,

Life flourishes and relationships

Bloom... I stagnate in

My loneliness.  How will

I grow in my introverted ways?

The box is sealed, and I 

Can't breathe.  I often

Dream of other paths, 

Green with flowers,

Water Flowing free,

Light of day...

I sit in darkness

Fearing the bitterness

The future holds.

Outside is dangerous,

And I am self sufficient

In my hiding,

Learning how to

Dream in color

Vivid and real

Though I live

In black and white.

I lost my muse

Walking defeats concentration.

My mind raced randomly,

From bills to red hills,

What I did, or didn't

So last night.

I just wanted to write,

Yet I couldn't focus.

My muse left long ago,

Yet I was riding 

The effects of her 

Memory.  She wrapped

Me in red....

Now everything is red...

My bank account,

The sun slipping beneath 

A darkening ocean,

My nose in spring....

The passion faded 

Rendering me useless.

Experience

The harsh hands of time

Beat like a drum upon flesh 

Day, night - black and blue

The Desert

Liquid
Burns fragile
Flesh, she consoles her pain.
Smirnoff tells her every midnight,
"Go home."

Yet she
Always responds,
"Home is where you make it,
And in your arms I am at peace."
She breathes

Easy,
Knowing worries
will vanish into dust.
Children cry, abandoned in night -
She breathes

Relief.
Warm liquid soothes,
Clarity in a glass.
Weak, life bleak, she does sin - never
Is true.

She wears
Masks, hiding self
In polluted water,
Liquid vapors vanish with time,
Not life.

Water,
Life source, fresh, clear -
Washed away in a drought.
Dust upon lips, dust within veins,
Bitter.

Green hills feed the lambs.
The lambs feed the human race.
Now, who do we feed?

The Ladder

Strange
the way
liquid builds
upon ice and
sinks into sand.
Slippery
the path
up.

Untitled

#1

Balance

Never seems to

Last. It sways back and forth,

More negative it seems.  I still

Keep peace.

# 2

Secrets,

Revel in them.

A power in knowledge 

Exploited to conform the mass.

Media

Controls

Society.

Free thoughts lost to implants.

The shepherds left us to the wolves.

F***ers!

-------

I apologize for the ending, I don't like using curse words.