My brain shuts down and is resurrected by psych pills. The poison fills, then the poison empties.

Some of the worst people I've ever met.

I remember him. That evil look in his eyes. Those sharp teeth.

Loneliness. Asleep and never dreaming.

I lost her years ago in a raging inferno. Nothing can bring her back.

...I Love You...

I feel empty. I am a Wanderer. But something feels that I am not lost. Lonely world. But not for long!

Sitting... ...Waiting for the sunrise...

My aging mother.

Psych wards. And the absent mind.

Paganism I suppose.

In a drop of Sea.

A poem about change.

The flame. For the mentally ill. Nobody knows how much we suffer. I ain't going into much detail here. But its what we are lacking.

Before we die. We are sure of this.

A poem about the great unknown. Which happens to be us. Or to the found ones. The lucky ones. They know who they are.

Old folks poem

What could possibly remain on the other side of life? The Tyrant is death. And death may be possibility. Or just sleeping and never dreaming. Who knows

A poem about nothingness. Absence, and void. Bit its actually possibility. It is only us that bends.

I love you. One day, I will show you.