Carrying a Work Load

The feeling of work
crawls along back
sniggers at the brain
the body feels slack.


Words are running
all around my head
and I'm painfully reminded 
of when I can't sleep in bed


There's too much
and not enough
time
but the awful thing is
that really
this work load of mine
is much less than some
but still feel
overcome. 


I need to think clearly
see myself where I am,
where I stand
and see to next week
when I'll be done
but I'm just stuck
here,
and I feel so slow
so slow and dumb. 

Copy Write

When writing
it's inviting 
to take lines from others 
maybe for ease
but more so 
because what they've written 
fits exactly what I think
but in such an eloquent way
making anything I try
nothing much
not really even okay.


If one day 
I could reach the point
of admiration 
of people wanting 
to use my words 
well,
I can't find any 
at the moment
but it would be
magical.

Doubt

Doubt is like a shadow
covering the sun 
like a stone thrown 
in to the tide
and sinking down 
down
down.


Doubt is a cold gust
echoing through the head
it's a punishing force
making you wish
you were someone else instead.


Doubt is the slow trickle
of realisation
that you barely trust
anyone
let alone yourself 

Being Young

Risking glances
taking chances 
heart beat rush 
not knowing enough
feeling too much 
drinking
thinking
of the future 
what is to come 
making friends 
looking
hoping
for the one
still like a child
but possibly
a little more wild
not wanting to grow up.

Kisses

Collecting kisses 

memories of lips

meeting mine

a smile just before

or during

and eyes always kind 

a short connection

that doesn't last long

the meaning not the deep

I wish I had someone 

where I got to keep

this feeling 

and rather than collect

just have the one.

Fragments

Conversation

of strangers

important to them

and nothing to you 

Jigsaw

trying to fit pieces

and one is always gone

the bigger picture

never done. 

Thoughts

one begins, another stops

intelligence and emotion

soon become lost

as the heart beats

and everything is sweeped

suddenly finding the fragments 

becomes less clear 

and I'm just happy

to be on my way here.

What Would I Do?

I will walk through the night
I will use anything I might
until I find the one I seek
until they become mine to keep
until the cold becomes warm 
and I feel that I belong.


I will walk through baking sun
looking around for the one 
the one that is meant to be for me
the kind of love 
that is written through history.


I will through the depth of cold
if it means I would find
someone I can grow old, 
with - a someone who is kind.

Though I could walk
and though I could search
perhaps I'm not meant to 
and we'll just find each other
rather than just me,
looking for you.