I speak when i am in the dark,i scream when i can not breathe.
I cry when out in public to seek the sympathy of others, and the advice of those, who come with experienced hands.Yet i get no answer, because i am blind in the dark, and blind to the sight of light.I have no sense of direction, so they do all they feel they can for me. Wipe the tears from my eyes and ask me, "why do you cry?". Tears flood my eye's and my vision is blurred,i give them no answer. because i can not see,i feel blind to the world and deaf to words. I plan out the puddles i have yet to splash in, but not the boat i will indefinitely sail in. They ask, "why do you let them control your emotions?". I retort, "i do not know what makes me smile, for i always come across a superficial high"
~hmb
Its the urge to vomit my thoughts into words, that are contorted by the tongue, then sprayed on to paper...and afterwards.....RELIEF .
and when set to air, they dry. But when put to a flame, they do not burn, they blossom like a growing flower in need of light.
~hmb
Diffusion of sweat, prints the page. Not a signature, but a mere thought. I am now distracted with the silence of a pause.....a pause in thought....a pause in light, for i am now in the dark. Being smothered by waves of emotion & the mere existence of being...
~hmb
Emotions run deep with no concern. Leaking a trail of happiness or pain. Confusion & complication are the ones who stain. The ones you can seem to relate to, at this point in time. So you alienate your self from the rest, hoping to find answers, answers that will put an end to this piercing disfigurement. Conclusion....something this emotion seems to lack.
~hmb
Mountains of the watery deep, Hills are what to conquer, muck it what it feels. No flowers. No sun. No oxygen. Short breathes keep you wanting more, more of what you want. Then you realize its not a want...but a NEED.
~hmb
Put the picture up. It cries tears of blood, for it knows no other liquid. Water bubbles into pain, and blood is whats produced, lack of blood, coldness is whats produced. Take the picture down, coldness beyond all cold, produces a vast stinging sensation throughout the hands. Like dry ice. The picture slips from beneath your fingers....it shatters...But what produces isn't blood....its a scream that pierces the heart
~hmb
Memories. They make life, and life experiences worth living. Although they are not physical, they touch. Memories touch the heart, they touch the brain, they hold a scent, they hold a shape. They provide structure for things you think, and thought about. Memories provide a place, but cannot be replaced, memories are things that only you can take away.
~hmb
Thoughts cut like wounds, poured like blood onto paper. "I found you" i say to myself, i will never forget those nights, as i'm holding my black book tight.
