How She Appears

How quickly she moves through this anger...
How easily she hurts, yet for good reasons,
How confused and saddened is her soul-
Lost in a rage of emotion.
Her skin boils from heat and humiliation,
How obsessed she must seem,
What his brother may think,
Why does he do this...

Sent to Voicemail

Anger turns from sold spite
To a welling of tears,
Every moment unattended leaves
A bitter heart to weep.

She drove so far to see him,
Worked all day,
Got off late,
Drove frantically to him,
And he was not there.
No answer when she called,
No reply for over an hour,
And now she sits here, in his domain,
Alone in herself, angered with despair.
A special occasion this day is,
Yet she is here and not he,
It is not meaningful without he,
Where is he?
He does not answer, he will not reply!
Oh the sadness that erupts
Inside her worn being,
All she wanted was him,
All she recieved is emptiness.

Disappointed Anger

Anger pours out of my soul,
Flocking as a pack of villians
Amongst every nerve;
Face grows hot,
Lips curl smitefully,
Disappoint fuels this anger;
It does not tear at the heart
Nor weep bitterly,
This anger drives a speeding car,
Racing down the highway,
in search of anything to make roadkill;
A frightful anger this proves to be,
It's existence derived from unaware antics.

Itchy Brain

I have an little itch bothering my brain;
Try to reach it through the scalp,
Pull a q-tip through the ear canal,
Try another up the nose-
No use.
Incessant itching irks my mind,
But how to relinquish this terrible annoyance?
Attempt to think it away,
A seemingly brilliant idea which backfires,
The itching becomes worse!
Terrible tiny needles prick my noggin,
It overcomes the entire space inside the head,
I shout, I scream!
For the itch has grown too monumental to bear,
Unbearable fire ants feel as if they bite
Each crevice of the brain,
So painful it swells larger than it's holding chamber--
POP!
Mini atomic bomb blows the itch,
And head away.

Two Brown Circles

Two brown spots
Lay flatly atop
Her superficial jaw skin.

Itch, scratch, peel, bleed.

Two brown dots
Exude alien-like
Qualities among onlookers.

Deformed, experimental, tragic.

Two brown eyes
Search the Earth's souls
To tempt and mislead.

Easy, attractive, sinful.

Time (and this theory) May or May Not Make Sense

time travel has been at our fingertips from the beginning of 'time.'

Say you are traveling in a car A, going 45 miles an hour. Car B is traveling to and from the exact same place as you except they are going 75 miles an hour. Car B arrives at the destination first because he traveled through space at a faster rate, essentially he traveled through time at a slower rate (if you count how many spare minutes he had once he arrived at the destination), at a faster rate. Point being, we are constantly traveling through time, some faster than others. (and that's how you fit 60 hours work weeks into your schedule).

How the ocean waves
collide with the Sun's rays,
A beautiful sight
Or simply nature's plight
Toward some thing bigger,
Bigger than beauty,
Deeper than superficial visions,
See the sea meet sky-
Such angelic forces collide,
More perfectly than matching puzzle pieces,
It ignites such a movement
Of mind one sways with sober
Drunkenness at the wonders of this
World and the next, or the next to come,
So many speculations,
So many wild truths,
Become apart of us-
The one being that separated itself
From its homeland;
A call home, it beseeches us,
Grandly yet subtly...