Fed your poison while addicted to health,
lavish portrails of , "If I could..."

By design, hospice sought
malformed memories forgot,
all averted, tests of life we live.

Holy comfort be my fire,
warmth, not sweat do I desire
indemnity is no small thing to give.

Should tread onward, seeking truth
instead of "being", be of use,
no hatred held within forgiven all

Fearful thinking, frantic heart
creeping inkling to depart

Procrastination not an option, alone I'm left to seek ( Read more... )

From the Sutta Nipata, verses 143-52 ( Read more... )

Nightime sometimes makes things clearer
while red, fine lined time ticks away.
I find my mind to be the seether,
in which all thoughts boil from dismay.

Twenty-four more hours proceed wandering their way.
Nothingness devours slowly morsels of each day.
Fed-up, frustrated, fatigued, intrigued again I've let this be
Consequences for offenses past, the price that we must pay.

Kill me...
I can not wait any longer for fate.
Kill me...
Wanting you near yet my hate reappears.

I hate my breath, my skin.
Mostly I hate the hatred within.
Your God, your comfort I can't justify.
Filled up with 'sin' and left out to dry.

Picking my face up from off the ground once again ( Read more... )

Cold, alone I roam while gathering my thoughts again.
Burning, aching feet make soles wear thin.
Growing distance between us from no fault but my own.
forcing forward, farther I must go.

Lost in stress, regress to previous activities.