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Wanting

To

Go

Back

To

How

Things

Were

Is

Backwards

Thinking

-b.m.

Brewing

Something is stirring from deep within;

My hands are shaking.

My body is quaking.

A storm is brewing beneath my skin.

Like a dormant volcano inactive for years;

The pressure is building.

The air is chilling.

Threatening to erupt are my deepest fears.

The explosion, by nature, is cruel and relentless;

The screams are shattering.

The tremors are battering.

The victim, my spirit, is weak and defenseless. 

The screaming hushes and the shaking stills;

My soul is hollowed.

Then darkness follows.

Hauntingly silent, my loneliness kills.

Back to dormancy, I quiet once more;

The smoke clears.

Dried are the tears.

How long it will last, I cannot be sure.

I cannot be sure.

-b.m.

Speechless

Oh the frustration of

not finding the

right words.

It eats away at me,

like vultures on 

the dead.

-b.m.