Longing to Carry My Life

The night turning

Has my life not been pain forever?

When I speak aloud, I am gossamer, a trialed poet. An extreme scream at the most. A whine with no laughs,no peace at each seam.What is so premature - madness? Speaking loudly, I churn and turn to stories. I now speak slowly and softly, I can hear my blood flow loudly as what my thoughts once were. Lost in smoke, I prepare for the dive into love-Longing. Core is the core of longing for a throat to carry.

Longing to carry my life has turned around-I must write honestly truthfully to carry my heavy soul I must breath slowly-intently as to catch myself from containing its rawness-forever.something must contain me forever, as I am like burning glass I can feel it fuel me like alcohol, The soul I am breathing is wild and pretentious - careful.We must be the shine-forever. I can feel the words flutter,they scare me as I write.has my life not always been"pain" ?one glass to another, then another. What is the problem?unreality unfolds as I measure the colors around me,must I be quotable, romantic,perfect.such a precious soul.I carry it like a glass, kindling,careful, like a childMaybe I've grown wild-Like the trees. Then when my hand cannot stop moving. I've gone wild.