constrained

knowing frustration the dusk darkly respires inordinate directions tiredly traveled assembling nowhere seen  

Trying to find thanks…

  in the sun’s mourning light searching for any spark in your eye. What are you thinking right now in your medicated haze mixed pain? Why do we always ask why when why doesn’t give a shit. Like deserving what we get get’s us what we deserve. Who decides these things, like perverse justice. Trying…

So he finds….

Without his muse He can’t write a fucking thing Phraseology trapped under his skin Awaits  release from inertia Awaits a lightness of breath To unbind his heart’s language A vocabulary of verity On bones winter white Waiting for thaw