remove label before placing in microwave

“the truth you speak has no past
and no future.
it is, and that’s all
it needs to be.”

to love and be loved
are the worst of delusions
in this world of dreams
they are merely illusions
sometimes we think we know
soon realizing we only pretend
<BR?SOON pretend
our love is but mere lust
only our honor do we defend
if i say i love you
could you believe the words i speak
how do i exclaim the truth
when inside i am so weak
could i touch your heart
without being driven by passion
or would i lose control
becoming an animal in fashion
if my heart beats strongly
spinning the wheels of desire
could we remain complete
or would we be captives of the fire
and if i must profess
how you tease me so
then maybe i live an illusion
which is better you not know

the vertigo is enduring, almost pleasant in its nature of rocking her on her feet. at first it had seemed disturbing and in the least somewhat odd, however now it is but the gentle arms of the universe lulling her to sleep. the soothing touch of a caressing hope, quiet in faith while whispering loudly among its trespassers.an innocent bystander would not understand the wild look behind her eyes, nor the true agony behind the smile she greets those few who dare attempt an act of kindness. she feels wounded, wild in regret, almost a thing no longer needed or wanted. all the while she knows these feelings should not adorn her with shackles and chains of a soceity depriciating in values and esteem.

her heartfelt woes and nightfelt dreams wreak havoc among her thoughts…why must i continue this reality? or is this part simply the dream? she looks to the time as the morning light rudely awakens her, holding tight to the covers and swatting angry disbeliefs into the day. hold her just a moment longer..again drifting off to the sandman’s brittle grains falling whimsically through the hourglass. each grain chasing away demons lurking in the corners of her thoughts and echoing softly among her heart beating slow and steady. she knows no place as well as this one – embraces none as sweetly nor as crushingly

the vertigo is chasing her…her steps no longer ring any louder than those swiftly closing in. it catches her, devours her fleeting thoughts….
in this vertigo she swims, head above the water, feet like quicksand

“we’re perched headlong on the edge of boredom
we’re reaching for death on the end of a candle
we’re trying for something that’s already found us.”

jim morrison